


chasing down the silver linings of wounded minds and wounded souls

by darlingjustdont



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Hurt/Comfort, Jilytober 2018, War, i wrote everyone like two years older bc fuck jk's math abilities, idk it's all about dealing with war and shit, it's me after all, like a lot of hurt comfort, they're all so sad and trying to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 79,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingjustdont/pseuds/darlingjustdont
Summary: she hasn’t cried over someone dying in a long time and tonight is no exception. they burn at the back of her eyes but refuse to fall, refuse to give her any relief. it’s a deep sadness welling inside her, raging against her mind, but it doesn’t spill out.god, she just wants it all to stop: the war, the deaths, the loneliness.the floorboards creak outside the door and she brings a hand up to rub at her aching eyes. “go away, sirius.”“i’m not sirius,” james says, pushing open the door enough for him to step in.lily and james, from hogwarts to halloween, if everything had been a little different





	chasing down the silver linings of wounded minds and wounded souls

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY JILYTOBER WITCHES!!!! SHE'S BACK!!
> 
> i'm about to write a long author's note so imma put the warnings first just in case. 
> 
> **cw for some violence and talk about blood, vague suicidal ideation, smoking, heavily implied (like just short of actual descriptions of) sex, a lot of talk about vomiting, vague descriptions of torture, a lot of injury descriptions, and nonfatal (but still serious) injury to a pregnant lady. i promise it’s not that dark. ish.** also everyone is a few years older because i wanted a little more jadedness and tiredness. 
> 
> okay so i fully understand that this fic is ridiculous.  
> \- i realise that it's ridiculous that i disappeared for like four years and came back with a monster of a canon divergence fic.  
> \- i also realise that it's ridiculous that it's eighty thousand words, all in lowercase. i am truly sorry for that but in my defence, this was only supposed to be like 5k. by the time i realised it was very much not going to be short, it was too late to change the punctuation and i crashed my word processor twice trying to do so.  
> \- i realise it's ridiculous that, effectively, i wrote a jily fic with approximately no popular jily tropes in it. so if you're looking for a good lighthearted jily fic, this is not the one for you. soz. 
> 
> i really wanted to explore the consequences of war on james and lily's relationship for a lot of reasons, but one being that we (me included) almost always write them as a strong happy couple. but like, they were young adults in a time of very depressing war, and i just don't think that would've been the case. so here's the fic that's born of a lot of processing my own emotions re:hopelessness in a time of turbulence and a reflection of what that might've realistically looked like. hence all the content warnings.
> 
> i've never written a fic this long this fast before. i started it in august and finished it in october, almost to the day. don't ask me how i did it because i genuinely have 0 idea. it was wild and fun, though. most of the time. 
> 
> a million gazillion trillion thank yous to everyone who supported me in this whirlwind of a journey, and a particular shoutout to adriana, sriram, ana, and nai for always listening to my moaning about plot and figuring out what to do next. you guys are the real mvps and this definitely would not have been done without you!!! love u all 
> 
> title is from dotan's home ii and it's a perfect song tbh. sorry about the novella length author's note and the novel length fic. all mistakes are mine, hp is not mine.
> 
> enjoy xx

the waves are dark miles beneath her feet. they crash into the side of the cliff so forcefully she can almost feel the earth shaking. rocks dart out among the spray, sharp and unmoving and tempting. 

she sticks one foot over the edge of the cliff and imagines following it, imagines herself dropping down into the cold, cold water, banging against the rocks and still dropping, until she settles at the bottom of the sea.

“lily!” someone shouts behind her and it’s enough to rock her back onto the safe ground, enough to startle her away from the edge. she pulls her cardigan tighter around her body and turns. it’s sirius there in the distance, hair getting pulled at by the wind. she lifts a hand in a wave and troops towards him, stepping around mud patches and the scraggly garden she’s started. 

sirius looks tired. it’s the first thing she notices about him, it’s always the first first thing she notices these days. there are dark circles under his eyes, weariness pulling at the skin of his face. bruises dapple his cheek in varying colours, different shades for different ages. his hair is wet over his forehead from the sea salt spraying into the air, and brown with dried blood. 

“what happened to you?” she says, more than asks. he shrugs and watches her face. 

“show me a patronus.” 

“you first,” she replies with the faintest of smiles. they lift their wands together and silently, twin streams of light burst from the tip. the watch the doe and the dog prance around for a second before the spell dissipates into the air. 

“good to see you, evans.” 

“likewise, sirius.” she pushes the door open to the tiny cottage and isn’t surprised to see more people there; peter’s on the couch with his arm wrapped in a bandage. “pete--” 

“m’fine,” he mumbles even though she can see he’s pale under the grime. “just a chunk of me missing.” 

“what happened to you?” she repeats, twisting her head between peter and sirius. they exchange a look that’s heavy with unsaid words. sirius opens his mouth to answer, but it’s james that speaks first, pushing away from the wall. 

“got in a fight with some death eaters, that’s all. rodolphus fights dirty.” lily swallows hard when she sees his face. it’s just as dirty and tired and bruised as sirius’ is, lined with exhaustion and the ever-present anger simmering behind his eyes. he motions to peter. “he got the worst of it.” 

she nods, glancing away from james to examine peter for a moment. heading to the kitchen, she rummages through the cupboards until she finds the potions she needs, dumps them out on the coffee table and reaches for peter’s arm. 

“here. let me see.” she unwinds the bandage. it’s soaked through with blood already, unusable, so she vanishes it with a wave of her wand. peter’s arm is trembling with the pain and he winces away from the brush of her fingers. “just a chunk?” she says dryly, glancing up at sirius. he shrugs again.

the gash is nasty and wide, but lily’s seen worse. she uncaps the potions quickly and pours out a stream of liquid over the wound, muttering spells under her breath and ignoring the pressing weight of the boys’ presence around her. 

james waits until peter’s mostly healed to speak. “marlene’s dead.” 

lily’s hand slips and she pours out too much of the precious potion. “what?” 

“prongs,” sirius starts quietly but james keeps talking, tone hard and clipped. 

“marlene died. she got ambushed last week and couldn’t fight her way out.” 

she carefully corks the potion bottle and summons bandages to wrap around peter’s arm before standing. “and you’re just telling me now?”

james’ face is blank. he’s only across the room but he seems so far away, far enough away that it makes lily’s heart ache. 

“we just found out.” 

lily tips her chin up and blinks once, twice before turning on her heel and disappearing upstairs. the hallway is dark but she doesn’t bother with a light, just lets her feet follow the well-travelled path to her bedroom. 

she hasn’t cried over someone dying in a long time and tonight is no exception. they burn at the back of her eyes but refuse to fall, refuse to give her any relief. it’s a deep sadness welling inside her, raging against her mind, but it doesn’t spill out. 

god, she just wants it all to stop: the war, the deaths, the loneliness.

the floorboards creak outside the door and she brings a hand up to rub at her aching eyes. “go away, sirius.” 

“i’m not sirius,” james says, pushing open the door enough for him to step in. 

“why are you here?” he glances back into the hallway behind him for a long moment, one that she takes to look at the length of his neck, smooth skin stretching taunt over strained muscles, marred by a pale scar cutting too close to his adam’s apple. his shoulders are tense, fingers restless against his trouser leg. it’s the only part of him that isn’t still. 

“james,” she says quietly and his head snaps back towards her. “why are you here?”

“are you okay?” he asks after a moment. 

“i’m fine.”

“ _lily_ ,” he says, frown cutting deep into his forehead. she sighs, dragging a hand through her hair, and stands. the bedroom is small; she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. 

“i’m fine, i swear.”

“don’t lie to me.” 

“i’m not lying,” she counters, glancing up at the curve of his chin. he looks up to the ceiling for a moment and then back down at her, still frowning. 

there’s too much dead space between them, too many things to say and no way to say them. they weigh heavily on her tongue but don’t seem to want to spill out, no matter how much she tries. 

she opens her mouth to say something, anything, and the sound is lost is lost against james’ lips. it’s hard and sharp, and she kisses him back just as fiercely, digging her fingers into his shoulders like it will keep him there with her like it used to. 

she can taste blood in the kiss and she’s not sure if it’s fresh or old, new wounds or past ones breaking open, so she just kisses harder, deeper, willing herself to get lost in it again.

nothing is easy anymore, not even this. 

it’s over almost as soon as it began and james breaks away with a gasp, her face still cradled in his palms. he breathes for a second and so does she, them both just staring at each other for a long moment. his lips are bruised and swollen, hers are too, and everything in her wants to push forward and kiss him again, soothe the hurt with her mouth. 

an emotion she can’t read flickers in his eyes and he swipes at her cheekbones with his thumbs, leaving wet smeared behind. she hadn’t realised she was crying. 

james hesitates for a moment, a deep crease in between his brows, before shaking his head. he’s out the door in three heartbeats, long enough for lily to gather a deep breath and let it out. the front door slamming echoes around the house and she knows he’s gone, they’re all gone, and she’s left here alone. 

 

it’s nearly dark when she finally makes it downstairs. the contents of her potions cabinet are still cluttered on the counter; she waves them all back and rummages around in her cupboards for flour, yeast, oil. the bowl she pulls from below the sink is big and wooden, worn smooth by use. it settles into her hands like an old friend, and indeed it is. 

she tips some yeast into the bowl, following it with hot water. it dissolves quickly, and so she throws in the sugar, oil, salt, and flour, letting the familiar motions soothe the shortness in her chest. the heavy scent of yeast soon fills the room, sitting on her hair and clothes like a blanket, an illusion of safety she gathers around herself and holds close. 

bread does not take long to make. she pours the dough out on the floured counter and kneads it with her hands, pulling and pushing and punching until it loses its toughness and is pliant under her fingers. 

lily could easily do it all with magic; have a fresh loaf of bread transformed in the blink of an eye. but there’s something comforting about doing it firmly the muggle way, no magic at all. it’s untainted, untouched by wizardry. it’s a reminder, of sorts, that she is still the same girl who watched her mother bake bread in the sunlit kitchen of her youth. 

scraping the excess dough off her fingers, she rinses her hands in the cold water until they’re clean, places the dough in the warm oven to rise with a towel over the top, wipes her hands on the apron and switches entirely. 

now it is time for the magic, now that the bread is rising. there is no muggle way around what she needs to prepare. 

the potion is almost done, and just in time. she adds in the last ingredients and stirs until she’s satisfied with the result, leaves it to simmer until the morning. she starts on replenishing the ones used on peter because she has time. she never knows when she’ll need the healing. 

hours later, when everything is cleaned up and put away, she has six little loaves of bread cooling on the counter, and four newly-capped vials standing in the cupboard.

she survives the night without any other visitors. it’s drizzling outside, because it’s always fucking raining in wales.

wrapping two of the freshly-baked loaves in a tea towel and pocketing one of the vials, she trudges outside. the apparation point’s a walk away, across the field and down the road towards town a while. they can’t be too careful. 

with a blink and a crack, she finds herself on the other side of the country, tucked away in an alley that smells strongly of garbage. wrinkling her nose against the smell, lily fits the bread inside her magicked pocket and puts one hand on the grimy wall. 

finding the door is a little bit of a struggle, always has been, but she appreciates the security. it takes a few tries, but finally her fingers run over the bump in the brick and she leans into it, muttering a spell and hearing the lock unbolt. the door shimmers into view, a grey, peeling thing, but she smiles when she sees it. 

“hello?” she calls as she lets herself into the tiny corridor, pushing the door closed behind her with a bit of difficulty. “hello? remus, are you awake?” 

a flash of light illuminates the other end of the corridor and lily’s suddenly staring at the end of a wand shoved in her face. 

“what’s your favorite thing to eat on toast?” remus says lowly, the end of his wand never wavering. 

“marmalade,” she answers. remus doesn’t move, so she heaves a sigh, pushing her bedraggled hair behind her ear. “orange marmalade, preferably, and a shitton of butter.” 

remus nods and finally, finally breaks into a smile, dropping his arm. he goes in for a hug but lily stops him first. “what shape do boggarts take for you?” 

“a full moon,” remus answers promptly, a smirk pushing up half his mouth in a way that’s only the tiniest bit wolfy. “cos i’m a werewolf and it fucking terrifies me.” 

“don’t see why you’re scared of being a mangy dog, but to each his own, i suppose,” lily teases as remus folds her into a hug. she can hear him laugh against her ear. 

“i think you’re mixing me up with sirius. he’s the dog, i’m the wolf.” 

“close enough.” 

“prat,” remus tells her and lets her go from the hug so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders. “how’ve you been?” 

“bored. tired. lonely. you know, same old, same old.” 

“sounds like shit. i should know.” 

“has anyone else come by?” she asks carefully, watching the ghost of a smile on his cheek. 

“nope, just you. couldn’t have asked for a better minder,” he says and almost manages to pass it off as a joke. lily rolls her eyes and bumps him with her hip. 

“not your minder. the boys would be here if they could.” 

remus looks at her out of the corner of his eye, a curious glance. “do you know where they are?” 

there’s a rather large lump in her throat that wasn’t there a moment ago. “no idea.” 

“hmm.” 

“c’mon, you’re squashing the bread,” she says before he can say anything else. “it’s in my pocket and i’m afraid it’s going to turn to crumbs.” 

she pulls him through the tiny flat into the even tinier kitchenette. he settles back against the countertop and watches her pull things from her pockets: bread, a few eggs, a book that she’d mentioned last time, and of course-- 

“speaking of werewolves,” she says and sets the wolfsbane potion down gently. “mixed some more of that up for you.” 

“lily--” 

“no one knows. it’s too new of a potion for anyone to be watching for the ingredients being bought. i slipped it into the regular order and mixed it up quietly. no one knows, remus. i promise.” 

“you shouldn’t do that,” remus mumble, taking the potion in his hands carefully. “someone might suspect.” 

“i’m not going to let you be chained up every month when there’s a perfectly reasonable remedy,” she says crossly. “what kind of friend would i be otherwise?” 

he crosses over to her in a few steps and presses a tiny kiss on the crown of her head. “thank you, lily. i appreciate it. and thank you for the company and food as well.” 

“anything for you, moony.” 

he winces at the nickname, just a little, but tucks the wolfsbane away in his pocket for safe keeping. “what’s the book you brought?” 

“ _1984_ by george orwell. thought you’d might like it. i’ve got another by him, _animal farm,_ that i can lend you if you want.” 

“sounds depressing,” he says as he reads the back of the battered little book. “i’ll give it a go.” 

“everything’s depressing right now. even the weather’s a fucking joke. it’s like a fucking tragedy and i’m fucking sick of it.” 

“lily,” remus starts, pulling the sleeves of his ratty jumper over his wrists. “have you ever thought… have you ever thought about leaving?” 

“i _have_ left, remember?” lily says bitterly. “kicked me out of the order, didn’t they?’ 

“they did not,” remus replies. “dumbledore’s trying to keep you safe.” 

“by kicking me out.” 

“they made you the medic--” 

“fixing the people i love when they get ripped up by fucking--” 

“lily. they’re trying to protect you. _james_ is--” 

“don’t talk to me about james, remus,” lily says, suddenly very, very tired. “i can’t-- please.” 

remus looks at her, kind eyes searching her face for god knows what. after a long moment, he nods and scrubs a hand through his hair. “have you ever thought about leaving for real? getting out of the wizarding world, getting out of the u.k.” 

“where would i _go?_ ” 

“anywhere. anywhere that’s far, far, far away from you-know-who’s reach. you could do it, run away and just lay low for a while. live like a muggle.” 

he sounds so wistful and it makes lily’s heart break a little. 

“i’ll go if you go with me, remus.” 

they both know it’s impossible. remus could never survive without magic, without potions to stop him from killing people or spells to hold him back if the worst happens. he’s tied to the wizarding world, no matter how much it hates him. 

and she could never leave the boys behind. _her_ boys.

lily and remus give each other a sad sort of smile before lily speaks. 

“can i use the loo, remus?”

“course you can,” he murmurs, stepping aside so she can get out of the door. remus’ flat is small and rundown, half-heartedly furnished with scavenged pieces. like her own cottage, there isn’t anything decorating the walls, nothing placing them there if they have to flee. 

something catches her eye as she wanders through the lounge on her way back. it’s a photo stuck in a frame and sitting on the rickety side table. picking it up, she watches the four boys laugh as if they didn’t have a care in the world. sirius has a hand messing with james’ hair, and james is batting him away as the other two egg them on. 

it makes her throat ache, her chest ache, as she touches her fingers to the glass. 

god, if she knew then what would happen to those four boys, would she have done it? would she have tumbled into a romance with james and tied herself to them, their cause? or would she have done like so many of the other muggleborns had done and run away where it was safe and secure?

“lily,” remus says quietly, appearing next to her. he takes the picture from her hands and gives it a long look before setting it gently down. 

his jumper is still wrapped around him but she can see how thin he’s getting, how it doesn’t quite hide the hollowness of his middle. she lifts her eyes to his and he raises one eyebrow, daring her to say anything. she takes his dare. 

“have you been eating?”

“i’m fine.”

“remus.”

“your bread and eggs last will last until i can get out again,” he says and she shakes her head. reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her wallet, pours the entirety of the contents, muggle and wizard, into his hand. 

“i can’t take this.”

“you can and you will.”

“what will you do? you need to eat as well.”

“i have money at home. i will be fine.” 

he stares down at the pile of coins and bills before nodding, dumping it onto the table beside the photo. “thank you.”

she pushes up on her toes to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek and feels him smile. “love you, moony.”

“you too, evans. think it’s about time you left, though. it’s busy out there,” he says, jerking his chin towards the window. she could just barely see the street outside and the traffic steadily walking by.

“do you need me to stay with you tonight? since the boys are away?”

remus is shaking his head even before the words are fully out of her mouth. “no.”

“but—”

“it’s too dangerous. even with the wolfsbane, it’s too dangerous.”

“i don’t care,” she argues and remus continues to shake his head, looking pale. 

“you can’t, lily. if i hurt you, i’d never forgive myself. james would never forgive me, or you.”

it’s that that makes her stop, more than anything. she could deal with james’ disappointment and anger but remus, remus couldn’t. not after everything else. 

“okay. send a patronus if you need me and i’ll come.”

“deal,” remus promises. “stay safe out there.”

“you too.”

 

there’s a dog sitting in her garden when she comes back, sniffing at the birds brave enough to come nearby.

“hiya, padfoot,” lily says to the dog and hearing him transform as she unlocks the door.

“where were you?” he asks, harsh enough to make her frown. 

“running errands,” she says pushing past him into the house. “why?”

“because the point of having a safe house is to keep someone safe, and we can’t do that if you’re not here.”

“i am perfectly capable of protecting myself, sirius,” she tells him, calmly emptying her pockets onto the kitchen counter. he watches her for a moment before his eyes narrow. 

“you were with remus _,_ weren’t you?” 

“it’s the full moon. i had to make sure he was alright.” 

sirius’ mouth curls into something she can’t quite read. “we’re his friends.” 

“i’m his friend too,” she snaps, slamming a hand down onto the counter and glaring at him. sirius glares back, pale and tired and hair an absolute mess. her stomach twists again. “and i realise you are all busy, but i couldn’t just leave him to his own devices, okay? if none of you can get there on a full moon, then at least i can visit him before.” 

“you’re muggleborn, lily.” 

“i’m aware, thanks.” 

“it’s dangerous for you out there.” 

“it’s a war,” she says flatly and folds his arms over her chest. “it’s dangerous for everyone.” 

“yeah, but especially you.” 

“thanks for reminding me. i’d forgotten while i was stuck in this safehouse,” she tells him, sarcastic, and he looks up to the ceiling with a sigh. “what?”

“nothing,” he mumbles but she presses. 

“what are you thinking, sirius.” 

“just that you’re so fucking _thick_ sometimes--”

“why? because i want to help our friend?” 

“because you won’t listen to reason!” he says loudly, not quite a shout but nearly. “because you keep putting yourself in danger.” 

“i baked bread,” she replies, half-laughing in disbelief. “i baked remus some bread and went to drop it off for him. he’s not eating, i know he’s not, and _damn it_ if i’m going to let him be alone on the worst night of his life. that’s not the kind of person i am, sirius.” 

sirius sneers and she gives him an incredulous look. “why are you fighting with remus?” 

“why are you fighting with james,” he shoots back and she stares at him for a minute. she should’ve expected that. 

“because he’s a prat who doesn’t know what to do when life gets hard and he can’t get his way because he’s never had a bad thing happen to him.” that last part’s mostly wrong but sirius wisely doesn’t call her on, tilts his head to the side instead. she swallows. “that’s why we’re fighting. your turn.”

“same reason. remus is a prat.”

“liar,” she tells him, crossing her arms. “liar and a cheat.”

“you should know me by now. stop going to visit remus.”

“not on my life, black.”

“you’re a fucking stubborn bird, evans. sometimes you give james a run when it comes to pigheadedness,” sirius tells her after a second. 

“i may be stubborn, padfoot, but i’m not stupid.” he scowls but knows well enough to drop the argument. lily heaves in a big sigh, forcing herself to let go of a little of the tension in her shoulders. “now. how can i help you?”

“mad eye needs more potions. he brought you a list and someone will bring by any ingredients you need later.”

“i can go shopping for them myself,” she protests half heartedly, looking at the words scrawled out in moody’s hand. “this felix felicis is going to be rather difficult.”

“take your time. but we need it as soon as you can make them.” his lips quirk up at the contradiction and she smiles too, can’t help herself. 

“naturally. okay, i’ll look through my stores and see what i need.”

“drop it in the usual spot and we’ll pick it up.”

“is that it?”

“for now, yeah”

“wait, sirius— is he… is he alright?”

sirius hesitates for a second, chewing on his lip like he’s deciding what to say. his forehead’s wrinkled in a frown. finally, he runs at his face and shrugs. “no, he’s not. none of us are but he’s probably got the worst of it.”

she fidgets with a piece of her hair, tugging on it and winding it around her fingers. “tell him he can come home whenever he needs to.” 

sirius jerks his head once, sharp, and gives her a wave. lily watches him out the window as he wades through the mud to the apparation point. when he’s disappeared, she smoothes out the list of potions. 

there are eight or so ones to make, some simple and some definitely not. she goes through the supplies she has and makes notes of the ones she doesn’t, checking it once, twice just to make sure until she feels like she has a good handle on what needs to be done. 

 

three days later and she’s been by herself for the whole time, with nothing to stop her from going mad. if she has to stay here, alone, she’s going to pull all her hair out and scream. 

she rummages through the house instead, searching for a piece of paper and a pen-- good, sturdy muggle instruments that feel familiar. sitting down at the tiny kitchen table, she writes. 

_hey mum._

_it’s been so long since we’ve talked, but it’s nearly impossible right now because of what’s happening. don’t worry, i’m okay. i’m settled in a nice little cottage on the coast and they’re not letting me leave. it’s house arrest, nearly._

_james is well. i don’t see him often because he’s bogged down with things to do for the order, but he’s handling it._

_i lied before. he’s not well, and he’s not handling it well. we’ve not split up officially but he doesn’t ever sleep here with me. i don’t think he sleeps much at all. he’s guilty, i think, when he sees me. there’s so much folded into our relationship that i can’t quite untangle, things i never thought would be a problem-- families and pureblood and identity._

_i’m so incredibly bored, mum. all i do all day is fret. some days i make potions, and some days i sneak away, but there’s very few places that are safe for me now. i’m so tired of watching over my shoulder, of hiding from the windows, of asking my friends questions to make sure they’re not spies disguised at my door. it’s tiring and it’s boring and all i feel is emptiness now. i’m just trying to figure out who i am._

_james kissed me the other day. it was the first time in weeks, a month maybe. i don’t remember the last time he gave me a proper hug. it’s like there’s a wall there._

_i don’t think he loves me anymore._

_how did you do it? how did you survive the war when your brother was shipped off to france and you lived in constant fear of the bombs? how did you keep hold of yourself when everything was crumbling around your head? i don’t know who i am anymore and it’s not more terrifying than losing people, but i feel like i’m losing myself._

_fuck, i don’t know how you survived the mental anguish of it all without beating your head out on the pavement._

_there’s so much of me that wants to leave in any way possible. i couldn’t ever do it, not without remus and james and sirius and pete, but some days i stand on the edge of my little cliff and just ache to jump. i never do, but the ache is strong enough to drive me mad._

_something in me thinks i’ll find the answers at the bottom of the sea._

_keeping calm and carrying on, lily._

she doesn’t send that letter. she writes another one and folds it into an envelope, tucks it into her coat pockets. the original letter she tucks away in the pages of her favourite book, to keep as a bookmark and nothing else.

it’s not so dreary the next day, so she sets out into the nearby village. it’s a tiny, tiny little thing with more sheep than people, but there’s a post office and a shop and a pub she can sit in sometimes. it’s quiet enough that no one will bother her, small enough that no one could find her unless they knew where she was. 

she charms the censored letter so only the recipient can open it, seals the envelope and puts it in the post. 

 

“wotcher, lily,” frank says a few days later, warm eyes peeking over the top of the large bag he’s got in his arms. “could you get the door for me?” 

lily lets him in and he dumps everything down, shakes out his arms. he’s drawing his wand before lily can act and she’s just got hers ready to defend herself when his patronus leaps around the room. 

“you could’ve warned me first,” she grumbles as she does the same thing. frank watches her doe shimmer out of sight and gives her a tired smile. 

“i’m a little out of breath from carrying that.” he nods at the bag and lily glances at it curiously. 

“potion supplies?” 

“and food. alice made some cake for you, if you want it. it might be a little smushed but it’ll still be delicious.” 

“thanks, frank,” she tells him, giving him a brief hug. “how’s everything?” 

“chaotic. we’re running around like chickens with our heads cut off, all of us. well, all but dumbledore and mad-eye, of course. nothing’s changed. we think the death eaters are getting stronger, actually.” 

“fuck,” lily says, breathing out the word. frank nods dejectedly. “i always hope…” 

“that it’s going to get better all of a sudden, yeah. honestly, i don’t know how long we can carry on like this.” 

lily thinks about the tired, drawn faces of all her friends, thinks about being cloistered away in a cottage because it’s not safe for her to leave, and blanches. “god, the tide’s got to turn at some point, doesn’t it? it has to.” 

“it must,” he says grimly. “or we’ll all go mad.”

she hums her agreement and starts sorting through the supplies, checking them against her catalogue in her head. 

“everything’s there?”

“for now, yeah. i might need more later.”

“just let us know and we’ll get them to you. how long will it take?”

“dunno,” she answers, tapping her fingers on the counter. “few weeks? the simpler stuff won’t take too long but the felix felicis and the polyjuice…”

“they take a while, i remember.”

“do you have enough to keep you safe?”

frank waves a hand, giving her as reassuring of a smile as he can. “we’ll make do. thanks for helping, lil.”

she scoffs, shaking her head. “this isn’t helping. i wish i could do more.”

“me too,” he says ruefully. “but out there, it’s madness. they hardly care about spilling their fucking precious pure blood, anything else is fair game.” there’s a shadow across his eyes that she recognizes from james and sirius. she wishes she could take her hand and wipe it away, wishes she could make all of it go away. 

“give alice my love,” she says, quiet. he jumps just a bit and turns a smile on her. “tell her to drop by if she wants.”

“‘course. give us a shout if you need anything.”

she gives him a swift kiss on his cheek and plasters on the most sincere smile she can muster. “safe journeys, frank.”

 

the supplies are a little bit of a godsend. some of them require very specific work, require her to be up at certain hours to stir the potion a certain amount of times. the felix felicis goes bad three times before she finally manages to make it correctly. 

she makes some extra batches of her healing potions with the leftover supplies. there’s something in the air that’s concerning, puts her on edge, so she fills the time with making every remotely potion she can think of. 

when she’s done with that after a week and a half, she adds more protective charms to the house, figures out how to shape defence jinxes more effectively, transfigures a chair into a television set and back again. nothing puts the edge in her blood to rest. 

 

golden light is slanting through the room when someone pounds on the door, begging to be let in. she pulls it open and sirius, james, and peter stagger in, samuel thomas between them. 

“what’s wrong?” lily asks, casting a spell at the sofa so it transforms into a bed. “quick, lie him down.” 

“he was hit with some sort of spell, not sure what,” sirius pants and they lay the man down. 

“death eaters,” peter informs lily. 

“yes, pete, i gathered that,” she says, bending over samuel and pushing the tattered bits of his shirt aside. “christ, what happened?” 

“he was on a mission and got caught. managed to apparate back to safety and we were there. patched him up as best we could and came to you,” james says, a dark, dark expression settled over his face. 

the wounds across samuel’s chest are oozing, deep and diagonal. she recognizes that handiwork. “fucking severus snape,” she growls under her breath and snaps her head up to look at peter. “pete, go find my blood-replenishing potion from the cabinet. we’re going to need it, a lot of it. sirius, bandages are in the basket next to the wash, grab them and bring them. _quickly._ ” 

the boys jump up and scatter at her commands, so she focuses back on samuel. he’s frighteningly pale, the blood standing out scarlet against his skin and she swears under her breath, pulling off his clothes as best she can without moving him. 

“what can i do,” james asks quietly over her shoulder. 

“be quiet for now. and give me space.” she feels him step back and takes in a breath, pulling at samuel’s already tattered shirt. it’s stuck under his body and tearing apart so she can’t wrestle it free. “james, i need you to levitate him the tiniest bit without letting him move too much. can you do that?”

james makes a noise of affirmation and she feels rather than sees him draw his wand. 

“wingardium leviosa,” he mutters and samuel lifts up, his body contorting in weird ways as blood starts to drip onto the sofa. 

“james, no— fuck— petrificus totalus,” she cries and samuel’s body stiffens. 

“effective.”

“no thanks to you,” she snaps, yanking they remainder of his clothes away. “you can let him down now.” samuel drops carefully back on the bed and lily lifts the spell locking him into place. “i hope he wasn’t hurt by that.”

james doesn’t say anything but he’s scowling when she looks over at him. 

“here,” sirius says, dumping an armful of fluffy, white bandages on the bed next to her elbow. she tosses one to james. 

“clean him up,” she orders and does the same to the other two boys. they work hurriedly as she notes how grey samuel’s become. “fuck,” she swears again, wishing nothing more than to wring severus’ throat. 

scrambling for her wand, she starts reciting the incantation. it’s not exactly right; she can’t quite remember the exact combination of words severus showed her all those years ago, but enough of them surface to close the wounds. 

“fucking hell,” peter swears as samuel starts convulsing, body shaking as he goes into shock.

“tip the potion in his mouth, all of it,” orders lily and peter lurches forward. his hands shake too much to get the stopper undone so sirius knocks him out of the way, pulls the stopper himself. he pours it down samuel’s throat but the convulsions continue. 

“fucking _hell,_ ” peter repeats and lily spares him a glance. he’s pale too, staring at samuel with a haunted look. 

“peter,” she says sharply. his eyes snap to her. “go lie down. leave us here and go up to my bedroom.” 

“i can--” 

“just go, before you faint. can’t take care of you and him at the same time.” his mouth closes and he leaves. lily turns back to sirius and james, who are both giving her an odd look. “what? do you need to leave too?” 

they shake their heads wordlessly. she squares her shoulders and nods to herself, motioning to samuel’s arms. “i need your help. i need you to hold him down.” 

“what?” they say together. 

“we need to seal the cuts, or they’re fester. it’s going to hurt and he’s going to fight it. i need sirius to hold him down at his shoulders and james to hold down his legs so he can’t hurt himself more.” 

“lily--” 

“don’t argue with me, sirius,” she snaps and he holds his hands up in surrender, shifting to stand by samuel’s head. she waits until james is at his legs and they’ve both got a firm grip on samuel’s body. 

“ready?” 

“ready,” james says and sirius nods, a blank expression on his face

“don’t look for this part,” she tells him and he scowls at her. 

“i’ll be fine. i’ve got a strong stomach.” 

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, wracks her brain to think of the perfect spell. there are so many that are almost what she needs, but not quite, and precision is of the essence here. 

“merlin, i never wanted to be a healer,” she mutters to herself and steels for what needs to be done. the spell lights up her wand and she holds her breath as she traces the scratches with it. the smell of burned skin fills the room almost instantly. they both gag on it. 

“christ, lily, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“shut up, potter.” samuel bucks up, knocking her wand hand and she very nearly singes a new hole in his skin. “sirius, _hold_ him.” 

sirius grunts and presses down, pushes samuel’s shoulders down into the mattress. lily leans her weight on his hips, careful to avoid any scratches. she starts the process again, going over the wounds as quickly as she can without hurting anyone more than necessary. samuel fights every step of the way, tossing his head and shrieking when they’re particularly deep. it grates against her ears and sirius’ face goes grey at the sound, but he doesn’t let go. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” james chants as samuel starts to shake again.

“i’m almost done,” she replies grimly, starting on the last bit. it’s the most painful and the most dangerous, sitting right around his heart. any stronger and it would’ve slashed through the rib cage and into his chest. 

a few excruciating seconds later, she draws a last line across samuel’s skin and sits away from him, rubbing at her face. 

“you can let go now.” 

sirius springs up immediately, backing away from the sofa-turned-hospital bed. “fuck. what did you do to him?” james lets go as well, slumping forward so his shoulder is nearly brushing her arm. 

“cauterizing spell. it closes everything up. i couldn’t remember the proper incantation, so this was the best i could do,” she says as she presses bandages after bandage over the gashes, making them as tidy as she can. 

“will it heal him?” 

“not sure. i hope so.” she takes in a deep breath and pushes herself up from the ground. her body feels weird without james’ next to her. “he needs more, though.”

“more? of _that?_ ” sirius calls, appalled.

“no,” answers lily, searching through her potions for anything that could be of help. she snatches up another blood replenishing potion, something to sterilize, something to stave off an infection if she can help it. “these will do for now.” sirius still looks shaken so she nudges james in the side. “help me with this. please.”

he doesn’t look at her but stands up, holding samuel’s mouth open so she can tip elixir after elixir down his throat. she prays that they’ll help. 

finally, some of the tension leaks out of samuel’s body and he slumps further into the mattress. lily sits back on her heels and lets out a deep breath, pushing her hair out of her face. 

“lily?” james asks quietly, looking at her in that odd way again. 

“m’fine,” she mumbles. “i just hope he will be too.”

“padfoot, can you go check on peter?” he says, not looking away from her. she pulls her hair up into a bun on top of her head as she listens to sirius stomp up the stairs. 

“lily--” 

“i’m _fine,_ james. i thought we both agreed to stop pretending.” 

he heaves out a sigh, twisting around so he’s facing her directly. she shifts the tiniest bit as he scans her up and down, eyebrows knitting together. “fuck’s sake, i’m not pretending to care. you just did some intense spellwork--” 

“james. can we just-- can you just be quiet for a moment,” she mumbles. she can feel the adrenaline wearing away and it’s like a heavy weight on her limbs, pulling her down to the floor. ignoring james, she tips sideways until she’s lying down, crumpled up in a ball and staring at james’ knees. 

“li--” 

“i’m _fine,_ just let me rest for a second,” she manages. it’s freezing on the ground but she can’t be bothered to find a blanket. she just lays there and takes in deep breaths, working on letting her heart settle. 

james doesn’t say anything as he stands. something in her wants to protest, wants to keep his warmth near her, but she’s too far gone to form the words. a blanket settles over her body and it stops the shivering. she wasn’t even aware she was shivering. 

“need anything else?” 

she shakes her head and watches as he sits down again. if it had been before, he would’ve settled a hand in her hair and stroked it until she fell asleep. but that was then and this is now, so he musses with his own hair and leaves hers alone. 

the blanket doesn’t quite seem warm enough anymore. 

“evans?” sirius barks, his footsteps stopping as he enters the room. “fuck, evans, are you okay?” 

“no,” james says gruffly. “let her be for a moment.” 

she hears peter and sirius come into the room, hears them sit nearby and talk quietly. she doesn’t listen but lets the sound fade into white noise, thinking about nothing except what it felt like to have james’ fingers in her hair. 

 

“you can’t move him,” lily says, ages later when she’s pulled herself together and made some tea. “samuel. he’s too unstable.” 

the three boys look at her blankly. 

“what should we do, then?” peter ventures after a moment as james and sirius exchange a look. lily takes another sip of her tea before answering. 

“leave him here.” 

“what? why?” says sirius. 

“i just said. you can’t move him, and i’m the healer. he’s in the best possible place. or do you want his wounds to open up and have to go through this whole damned night again?” 

peter blanches at that and shakes his head. 

“is that the best idea?” sirius asks, still looking at james. lily tips her head to the side and wraps a piece of hair around her finger. 

“is he a death eater?” 

“no.” 

“do you have a better plan?” 

“no,” sirius admits grudgingly and lily nods. 

“then it’s the only idea we have.” she looks at james, holds his gaze steady as she lifts her chin. “any other objections?” 

“i trust your judgement,” james says. 

“then samuel stays.” 

 

it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t wake up, not really. lily changes his bandages after the boys leave and knows it’s too little, too late. they’re stained red and nothing she can do will stop the blood soaking through. 

“shit,” she says quietly. “shit.” 

 

she walks through the field, stamping her feet extra hard to chase the chill from her toes. it’s not much longer that she has to walk, so she makes do, blowing on her fingers until she needs them to pull out her wand. 

the alleyway she apparates to is just as cold, feeling like a knife to her cheeks. she stuffs her wand in her pocket and prays her fingers aren’t too numb to feel the niche in the wall. it takes a few tries but finally she finds it, presses into it and shivers as she waits for the door to shimmer into view. 

remus is there as soon as it swings open, a guarded look on his face and his own wand pointed at her nose. “what did you bring me the last time you were here?” he demands immediately. she’s shaking too hard to answer. 

“w-w-w-” 

“christ, lily,” he mutters and it sounds so much like james that she stutters out a laugh. remus reaches for a coat hanging near the door and drapes it over her shoulders, mumbles a warming charm that makes the heat burrow deep into her bones, chasing out the cold. 

“should’ve thought of the charm,” she mumbles as soon as she can say the words without shaking them apart. remus’ lips quirk up into a half smile.

“you always did like to do things the hard way.”

she rolls her eyes, pulling her coat tighter around her body. “like what?” 

“dating james, for one,” he says dryly and she snorts. “that wasn’t an easy thing to do.” 

“very true. wolfsbane, by the way.” 

“hmm?” 

“last time i was here i brought you wolfsbane, bread, and a book.” 

“what have you brought me this time?” 

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she says and sits on the stair to yank off her boots. remus takes her scarf when she unwinds it, hangs it up on the hook next to his own. 

“you’re here early this month. the full moon’s not for another few months.” 

“better early than late.” he raises an eyebrow. “i was lonely. thought i’d come visit an old friend. the potion was ready anyway.” 

she makes to undo her coat but he shakes his head. “keep your coat on. i won’t be offended,” he tells her. she frowns at him for a moment, places her hands on the radiator. 

“remus, why are your radiators cold?” 

“because i, unlike some people, don’t forget how to do warming charms.” 

“fair point.” 

“do you want a drink?” he asks and she looks at him for a moment before letting him change the topic. 

“firewhiskey?” 

his eyes slide to her for a moment, deliberating, before nodding. “course.” 

she follows him into the kitchen again, leans her back against the counter. remus is rooting through his cabinets for some glasses and she waits until his head’s out of harm’s way before speaking. 

“samuel died.” he stills. “he died on my sofa. that fucking curse of severus’ that slices you up. i couldn’t save him, but god, i tried. didn’t make a damn difference, in the end.” 

“oh, lily.” 

“i was all by myself when it happened. and i shouldn’t be so fucked up about it because it’s not the first time i’ve seen someone die, but it was so awful, remus.” she sniffs and wipes her nose against the sleeve of her coat. remus just stares at her with wide, wide eyes, scars looking even more pronounced against his pale face. “like, most deaths in this godawful war aren’t… aren’t _messy._ they’re spells that leave no traces, you know? but samuel was sliced up like ribbons and i tried to save him and i _couldn’t._ ” her voice cracks on the last syllable and it feels like it cracks something inside her too. she blinks against the wet in her eyes. 

remus presses a glass into her hand. it’s full of firewhiskey. “to samuel,” he says simply, raising his glass. she echoes his movements and drains the contents in one go, screwing up her face against the burn down her throat. she holds her glass out and remus fills it up again without comment. 

“i’ve been making bread the muggle way,” she says a while later. she’s lost count of how much she’s drank, how many times remus has poured out the firewhiskey and she’s swallowed it down, but instead of turning everything soft, it’s just made her quieter. “i’ve been measuring and kneading and waiting ages for it to rise and punch down and rise again. it’s comforting.” she runs a finger through the spilled alcohol on the counter, separating the drops and joining them together again. remus lets her talk. he always was the best at listening. 

“i’ve been doing a lot of things the muggle way now. it seems more important, somehow, to write out my letters and lists with pen and paper instead of quill and parchment. it seems like a tiny ‘fuck you’ to voldemort when i take things slow and do it with my hands instead of my wand.” she lets out a little laugh, feeling tiredness flood through her veins like the weight of the past weeks have finally caught up with her.. “i figure if my only crime is being a mudblood then i’m going to be the best fucking mudblood i can be.” 

remus’ eyes go sharp at the word. “don’t call yourself that.” 

she shrugs, lifts her finger to her lips and licks the bitter taste of alcohol away. “it’s who i am.” 

“slughorn used to call you the brightest witch of our age. i hope you know that.” 

“slughorn,” she laughs, shaking her head and watching the world go a tiny bit woozy. “i haven’t thought of him in ages.” she lifts her glass and salutes remus with it. there’s still a sip there. “to sluggy, eh? merlin, what i wouldn’t give to be at one of his stupid slug club parties right about now.” 

she motions towards the bottle but he slides it farther away, clicking his tongue. “you’ve drunk it all, lily.” 

“have i?”

“you have,” he confirms, shaking the bottle as proof. she frowns, both at the emptiness and the fact that it goes double when he does that.

“oops.” remus laughs and she shoots him what she hopes is a disapproving glare. from his grin, it probably looks more dopey, but she can’t quite mind. “s’probably a mistake.” 

“probably.” 

she squints at him. “you’re an enabler.” the words come out slurred and it just makes his grin wider. it looks nice when he smiles like that. he should smile more. 

“thanks for the compliment, lily. i’ll remember to smile more just for you.” 

“did i say that out loud?” 

“christ, you’re really wankered, aren’t you?” he asks. she nods and sags against the counter. her knees feel a little like they’re about to give out. the floor doesn’t look half bad, though. she could sleep there, no problem. she tells remus so.

“you’re not sleeping on my kitchen floor.” 

“then i’ll go sleep on _my_ kitchen floor.” 

remus lets out a sigh and wraps his fingers around her elbow, tugging her into the hallway and up the stairs. her surroundings go all streaky. 

“i’m not going to let you apparate when you’re this drunk. you’d just splice yourself.” 

“remus,” she whines. “ _please._ i’m so tired.” 

he helps her shrug off her coat, finally, and nods behind her. “there you go. you can sleep there for a while.” 

“okay,” she says, climbing into the bed and settling down in the middle, already half-asleep. “night, remus.” 

she drifts off before remus can reply and dreams of nothing but burning, burning in her stomach. 

 

the winter light comes in through the window, harsh as it settles against her eyes and kicks her hangover into gear. it takes what feels like a monumental effort to heave herself out of the small bed into the even smaller room in search of something to wash away the taste in her mouth. 

the house is cold and she rubs at her arms as she stumbles down the stairs and into the kitchen. remus is already there, munching on some toast and looking highly amused. 

“fuck, my head,” she mutters and fumbles to fill a glass with water. “why’d you ever give me firewhiskey?” 

“you needed it,” remus says, still chuckling to himself. she screws up her face and kneads her eyes with her knuckles. 

“god. you don’t know of any spells for hangovers, do you? there should be a spell for hangovers by now.” 

“if there is one, sirius hasn’t found it yet. merlin knows he would need it.” 

“fuck,” she says again and opens her eyes. “can i have a bite of your toast?” he gives her the other slice and she chews it, her stomach settling a bit. “wait. where did you sleep last night?” 

he jerks his head towards the lounge. “sofa.” 

“shit, remus. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to--” 

“oh, shut it, lily. thought we were close enough friends that we didn’t have to go through this.” he smiles when she looks uncertain, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “consider it repayment for the potions you brought me.” 

“oh, right! how did that go the last time? was it alright?” 

“fine. it’s a hell of a lot easier with it than without. still makes me fucking exhausted, though.” he plays it off as a joke but she can see the truth in the pallor of his skin, in the way the lines on his forehead seem deeper and sadder. it makes her heart ache, this boy who never go to be a boy, really. 

“don’t tell the others,” she says, because anything else would be too unbearable in this fragile sort of moment, “but you’ve always been my favourite.” 

he laughs and hugs her around the shoulders. 

“remus?” 

“hmm?” 

“could you make me another piece of toast?” 

 

it’s raining by the time she leaves remus’ and apparatesback to the cottage in wales, that chilly sort of october rain that makes everything grey. she shivers and thinks fondly about the grand fireplaces at hogwarts, the comforting warmth of the potters’ house, the thick blankets her mum used to pile on her bed. 

there’s something standing in between her and her measley home, though, and he’s leaning against the doorway with a face like thunder. 

“james,” she mutters, reaching around to unlock the door.“what are you doing here?” 

he catches her wrist before she can push past him, pulls her to a stop. “where the _fuck_ have you been?” 

“out.”

“ _where,_ evans?” there’s a wild look in his eyes that makes her the tiniest bit uneasy. she yanks her arm away. 

“i was visiting a friend,” she tells him. “not that it’s any of your business.” 

his face gets darker. “you were gone all night,” he says lowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “i had no fucking idea where you were, if you were hurt, if they had--” he cuts himself off and glares, eyes dark behind his glasses. she shivers a bit. “none of my fucking business? “i didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

“you didn’t tell anyone where you were going! you didn’t leave a note, just fucking _disappeared._ and you didn’t think i would be upset? fucking hell, lily,” he snarls. she shakes her hair out of her face and scowls at him, digging her fingers into the skin of her arm. it’s going to leave a bruise but she doesn’t care. 

“i didn’t leave you a note because i didn’t expect you to be here to read it!” 

“why the fuck not?” 

“because it’s not like you’ve made a habit of being here. you’re always going off for god knows how long. are you going leave _me_ a note, tell me where you’re off to? or am i just supposed to wait patiently?”

“that’s different--” 

“how? how’s it different?” she challenges and he lets out a growl, hands pulling on his hair in frustration. “am i supposed to be your little girlfriend waiting at home for you to come back while you go off and save the world?” 

“what the hell, lily? of course not, but you can’t just _leave_ without telling people where you are!” 

“you just expect me to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you get to run off and do _god_ knows what. do you know what happened the last time you left? samuel died, he _died_ , and i was here all by myself. he bled out on my sofa in front of my eyes, and i _needed_ you but you _left.”_

“lily--” he starts, but she’s started now and can’t stop. 

“i buried his body in the back garden, did you know that? you don’t, because you weren’t here, you’re never here and i can’t fucking stand it anymore.” 

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, lily,” he says icily and his hands are curled into fists, knuckles white, “but we’re in the middle of a fucking war. i’m fighting for _you_ and you’re being selfish--”

“fighting for me? why, because i’m a mudblood who can’t fend for herself?” she spits the words and he jerks like he’s been slapped. 

“that’s not what i meant and you know it.” 

“do i? i don’t seem to know much about you anymore because you’re _never fucking here._ ” 

james shakes his head. “you’re not listening, lily. god, it’s not even worth it.” he turns to leave, turns to stalk away like he always does and something snaps inside of her.

“don’t you fucking dare, james potter. you just walk out anytime you’ve had enough, don’t you? fucking hell, i never knew you to be a fucking _coward._ ” 

james stiffens. his anger’s strong enough to nearly make the dishes shake on their shelves, strong enough to nearly be a tangible thing in the room. but her anger’s the same, whipping up a windstorm around her and she can’t stop talking, not now that it’s spilling out of her like seawater, bitter and briny.

“where’s that gryffindor courage now, james? i thought you liked to fight.”

she glares up at him and he glares back, muscle in his cheek jumping furiously and his chest heaving. dimly, she realises how close to each other they’d gotten; they’re standing almost chest to chest, close enough for her to touch him. 

a strange expression shutters onto his face, clouding the anger with something else, something she can’t quite realize. just as she’s about to take a half step back, mumble an apology, he cups her chin in his hands and presses his mouth to hers.

it’s more teeth than tongue, more biting than kissing. they stumble back into the counter but don’t stop, lily just barely registering the edge digging into her back.

he slides his palms down her side, settling them at her hips. she pushes back, shoves her hands under his shirt and runs them up, digs her fingernails into his shoulders when his grip gets tighter. letting out a grunt, he pulls her up on the counter so their faces are level, changing the angle enough to make a shiver go down her spine. 

she can practically feel the anger pouring out of her, pouring out of him, but she channels it into his mouth, pushes back instead of going meekly. his fingers are so tight on her waist; there’ll be bruises in the morning but she can’t quite care. 

she scratches her nails down his back again, feeling the tiniest bit vindicated when he breaks the kiss to hiss against her cheek. 

“sometimes,” he mumbles, moving his mouth from her cheek to nip at her jaw. she pulls him closer, tipping her neck to the side, “sometimes, you drive me up the fucking wall, evans.” 

“god, do you ever shut the fuck up?” she breathes and slides her hands into his hair, yanking when he bites down on her shoulder, hard. “you _fucker_.” 

she pulls his head up to kiss her again, fingers making quick work of his shirt and trousers, and pulling him into the space between her legs. james makes a noise when she flattens her hand against his stomach, feels the jumping muscles there. his own fingers nip under the hem of her shirt and rucks it up, bunching it at her waist, thumbs grazing the underside of her bra questioningly. 

she could say it all happened too quickly for her to think about stopping but it’d be a lie. she wants this, as furious as she is, misses it even, and so she pulls her top off and lets it join the rest of the clothes on the floor. 

 

james leaves afterwards. both of them are messes and there’s something catching in lily’s chest, like she needs to cry. she doesn’t, just like she doesn’t watch him leave. he’s gone by the time she finishes cleaning herself in the bathroom.

the house is empty and cold with just her in it. standing in the middle of the lounge, she flicks her wand and all the entries lock. another flick and the protections are back in place, all the defensive spells she hoped she would never have to use settling down around her tiny cottage. she turns on all the lights so it’s blazing golden in the pre-dusk gloom. she will have warmth in this darkness, even if it kills her.

she finds herself standing on the edge of the cliffs more days than not after that, most often sucking on a cig and watching the smoke drift over the sea. it was terribly french to chain smoke after your lover leaves you, she supposes, but she lets herself have it for a while.

the boredom wears heavily on her, more heavily than before. she’s restless, itching under her skin, and nothing she does can get rid of the feeling.

 

the town is awash with candles and pumpkins when she ventures out for more food, more post, more human interactions. it confuses her for a long moment, blinking at the almost familiar scene, until she catches sight of a little girl dressed as a cat.

“it’s halloween,” she says dumbly, suddenly and completely homesick for hogwarts. she had always loved halloween in the castle, filled with candles and enchantments.

james had kissed her for the first time at the feast seventh year. she can’t even remember what she said or did, but he had looked at her with such adoration in his eyes that she couldn’t breathe. 

“what?” she had said, half laughing, half breathless. he had shook his head with the biggest grin on his face before kissing her so deeply she could feel it down in her toes. it might’ve been the happiest moment of her life. 

the memories burn right above her heart and makes her stomach churn. she sways the tiniest bit and catches herself on the wall behind her, trying to steady her head. 

“dear, are you alright?” someone asks. lily opens her eyes to squint at the old lady from the post office standing in front of her. “you look a bit peaky.” 

“i’m fine,” she chokes out and blanches when bile comes scalding up her throat. “can i use your loo?” 

the lady nods quickly and leads her into the tiny lavatory in the post office. lily’s knees sting as she hits the floor, hard, and sicks up into the toilet. 

“are you ill?” 

“no,” she says before retching again. “food poisoning.” she’s not sure she’s eaten enough to get food poisoning but it’s the easiest answer to give without everything pouring out in a rush. the lady seems uncertain but nods, handing her a mint when lily’s flushed the toilet and washed her face. “thank you.”

“of course. do you need to sit down? i’ve got a chair…” 

“no, i promise i’m alright. besides, i’ve got, um. i’ve got some errands i need to do.” 

the lady glances at her, looks her up and down and frowns. “you’re sure it’s just food poisoning?” 

“pretty sure,” lily answers and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “there’s nothing else it could be.” 

the lady nods again, not so convinced. “be careful, dear. just-- be careful.”

“i will. thank you again for the mint. and the loo.” 

she waves goodbye at the lady and heads back to the street on wobbly knees. her stomach aches from the sick, her throat does too, and it’s almost enough to make her want to go home. there’s nothing in her kitchen to eat, though, so she shuffles down to the shop and picks up some food. hesitating, she looks at the pumpkins on sale. she probably shouldn’t get one; it’d be a bear to carry back to her cottage and she never was artistic enough to make a jack o’lantern look decent. 

but she can still remember how james’ lips had felt, even now five years down the road. she’s still aching for the warmth that flooded hogwarts and the deep orange pumpkin seems exactly that. 

she hitches it on her hip and pays for the rest of her groceries. 

 

it takes a long time for her to find a knife sharp enough to slice through the thick skin but using a wand feels wrong. there’s something she loves about the messiness of scooping out the seeds, dragging her fingers through the stringy fruit, staining tips, and washing them gently under running water. 

she cuts a simple smile out of one side, triangles for eyes and long crescent for a smile, one snaggly tooth left of the middle. she’s got a candle but no matches, so she lights it with her wand and drips wax into the hollowed-out middle so the candle won’t tip over. 

it’s cheery, sitting in her lounge and flickering gently. it’s a tiny, stupid thing, but it makes her happy to look at, makes her happy to have around. as she watches the candle flicker in the draft, she almost reckons the cold cottage feels like a home. 

 

the wind is howling loud enough that she doesn’t hear the knocks at first, thinks it’s her imagination or something hitting the side of the house. still, she checks anyway and startles back when someone tips past her threshold. someone familiar and covered in blood. 

“dorcas?” lily says, staring down at the girl crumpled on the ground for a second before snapping into action. “fucking hell, what happened to you?” 

she slurs something lily can’t understand. lily half-carries, half-drags her to the still-transfigured bed in the middle of the lounge. most of the blood is coming from a cut on her eye, one that looks deep, and she’s holding her arm at an awkward angle. 

“dorcas, are you by yourself?” 

“with benjy,” she mumbles out. “dead.” 

“fuck,” lily says succinctly, summoning potions from the kitchen with a wave of her wand. she tends to the cut first, cleaning it out and smoothing some salve on it so it closes. it takes a while, the slice deep and so close to dorcas’ eye, her brain. dorcas breathes out in hot puffs against lily’s shoulder and barely whimpers when lily touches her head. 

“is your arm broken?” 

she tips her head down in a nod, eyes screwed shut, and lily chews on her lip. she doesn’t have any potion for healing broken bones, didn’t think she’d need it, but she’s kicking herself for that now. 

“listen, doe,” lily says quietly, wiping away some of the blood on dorcas’ cheek until dorcas’ eyes open. “i’m going to make you something to heal, but it’s going to be a while. i need to set your arm, are you okay with that?” dorcas nods again and her eyes slide shut once more. “drink this first.” 

dorcas swallows the calming draught without argument and lily knows it’ll be a pitiful anaesthetic. 

she works as efficiently as she can, ripping off the sleeve of dorcas’ jumper and eyeing her arm critically. it’s definitely broken and she reckons she can see the bone. dorcas cries out when lily straightens her arm, bucking against the pain and trying to pull away. lily doesn’t let her go too far. this is not going to be an easy fix, not going to be a painless fix, and she whispers a prayer before wrapping dorcas’ arm in a makeshift splint. it’s just two pieces of wood wrapped in bandages, but it’ll do for the time being. 

“are you hurt anywhere else?” lily asks. dorcas makes a quiet noise of dissent, pale underneath all the blood. “right, you stay there. i’m going to make this potion as fast as i can, alright?” 

she doesn’t wait for an answer but sprints to the supply cabinet, pulling ingredients at random from the shelves until her arms are full. she doesn’t know the potion off the top of her head but it’s in one of these books, it has to be— there! 

working as fast as she can without messing up, she chops and grinds and stirs and lets her cauldron bubble while desperately watching dorcas’ slumped form in the other room. she’s not moving much, but she _does_ move and it’s really all lily can hope for. 

“please don’t die on my sofa,” she chants under her breath, wiping her fingers on a towel and letting the cauldron boil. “please don’t die.” 

dorcas is in an awkward position on the bed, curled up in a ball with her arm gingerly propped on top of her hip. she’s shivering, caked in dirt and dead blood until her hair’s matted against her head. it’s that more than anything that makes lily nudge dorcas’ leg. 

“dorcas, come on. we’ve got to get you cleaned up; i’ll run a bath for you.” she pulls her up and they both stumble to the bathroom where lily quickly strips dorcas down to her pants and sits her in the bath, nudging the handles until warm water comes pouring out. dorcas doesn’t react as she sits there, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head on her knees. she doesn’t even look around, just screws up her fast and keeps breathing in that awful shallow way. 

lily finds a cup and fills it with the bathwater, pours it gently down the stretch of dorcas’ back. it doesn’t do anything but wet the dirt there, turning it black and shiny from the water. lily’s skin itches just looking at it. 

“what happened to you?” she wonders again, mostly to herself this time. 

“told you,” dorcas says weakly, the warm water and the calming draught bringing her a little bit more back to life. “death eaters. they cornered us—me in an alley. didn’t let us go without a fight.”

“who?” 

“crabbe. lestrange. bellatrix.” the last name hangs in the air like a curse, like a vacuum absorbing all the air in the room. lily had met sirius’ deranged relative only once and was in no hurry to repeat the incident. 

“you’re lucky to be alive,” she murmurs and dorcas’ face goes tight again. 

the bathwater soon goes brown and lily pulls the plug to let the water drain way. she does this once, twice before dorcas’ skin is clean, pink from the heat.

“christ, doe,” lily swears as she gently scrubs her fingers through dorcas’ hair, rinsing the grime out. she pushes it to one side to reach her neck and catches her breath. “fuck.” 

“crabbe,” says dorcas, bitter. lily doesn’t touch the bruising there, just stares at the ugly mottled colors and the swelling. dorcas shifts ever so slightly and lily’s eyes find more bruises around her waist. 

she sucks in a breath “did he—” 

“ _no_. thank god. he tried but benjy—” dorcas’ face collapses in pain again and she presses her cheek to her knee for a second. “they blasted him to pieces." 

“what?” 

“one moment he was there and the next he was gone. obliterated.” 

the blood in lily’s veins grow cold at the image. she can feel her heart pounding dully in her ears, that stupid organ that keeps her stupid blood flowing through her whole body. “fuck, dorcas,” she says, for what seems like the thousandth time that night. there's nothing else she _can_ say, not with all this crowding in her head. 

they sit there in relatively silence until dorcas shifts too much, letting out a hiss as her arm gets jarred. 

“shit,” mumbles lily and pushes herself to her feet. “the potion, hold on.” 

it’s not perfect but it’ll work well enough, at least she hopes. with hands that are only slightly shaking, she pours it out into a mug and carefully brings it into the bathroom. 

“here.” 

dorcas drinks it without pulling a face and instantly cries out in pain. her wrist is rotating, loud snaps echoing on the tiles as the ends of her bones connect back and knit together. 

“merlin, lily, what did you _give_ me?” she says, breathless, as her fingers sprawl out wide. lily doesn’t answer but watches carefully, praying nothing goes wrong. the potion works, though, and dorcas twists her arm first left, than right. 

“does it feel back to normal?” 

“yeah.” 

“good. you’re sure there’s nothing else that needs fixing?” 

dorcas shakes her head, her dark hair curling against her shoulders and her knees still pulled up to her chest. she hesitates for a moment, mouth opening and closing, before speaking. “can i stay with you tonight?” 

she looks desperately sad and _small_ in that moment. there was never an option of saying no, but still lily doesn’t know how she could’ve refused with dorcas looking like she might shatter. she nods.

“i’ll go change the sheets, then.” she makes to leave but dorcas’ hand catches onto her forearm, pulls her to a stop. 

“i can’t— can i sleep with you? please, lily, i can’t sleep by myself just now. i _can’t_.” 

“shh, don’t fret. you can sleep with me. i’ve got a big bed.” dorcas relaxes and lets go of lily’s arm, finally unfolding her legs and stretching them out in front of her. 

“i have nightmares,” she says quietly. “godawful ones and i couldn’t handle them and benjy, he…” she trails off and buries her face in her hands. “fucking hell, i can’t— i can’t believe he’s fucking _dead._ ” 

lily settles her hand in dorcas’ hair for a moment, stroking it as soothingly as she can while dorcas cries, and making quiet noises. dorcas doesn’t cry for long; exhaustion makes her tears run dry after a minute. lily hands her a towel and then finds some spare clothes to sleep in, the softest things she can find, and leads dorcas to the bedroom. 

“this is just like at hogwarts,” dorcas mumbles when they’re both under the hundred downy duvets lily piles on, warding away the chill. “i used to climb in your bed whenever another stupid boy made me cry and you’d just hug me until i’d stopped.” 

“i remember,” lily says quietly, thinking about the big poster beds and the half-rotted pumpkin she has sitting downstairs. all of their problems, so big then, seem meaningless now. 

she’d trade away so much to be able to go back to that time, before the war crept into her life and poisoned nearly every inch of it, before she saw the people she loved only in small snatches. she was getting tired of only seeing her friends when they were covered in blood, waiting for her to stitch them up.

dorcas drops off to sleep almost immediately, between one breath and the next, but lily stays awake long after the moon rises, watching the shadows and wishing she had kept the light on in the hallway. 

 

peter’s the one to show up the next day to escort dorcas home. lily gives him a hug and offers him a cup of coffee. 

“hey, peter.” 

“hiya, lily,” he says, taking in the mess that’s taken over her kitchen. she hadn’t had time to put away anything last night so she just left it. peter nods when she explains. “makes sense. is she in a bad way?” 

“her boyfriend just died in front of her. what do you think?” she says tiredly, ignoring the flash of annoyance that passes over his face. 

“i was just asking,” mumbles peter and takes a drink.

“she’s angry. she wants to go chase down the death eaters themselves, make them pay.” 

“there’s a long queue ahead of her for that.” 

“mmhm,” she hums, rubbing at her eyes with her fists. “wait, pete, did you come alone?” 

his eyes go a tiny bit shifty all of a sudden, fingers white on the handle of his coffee cup. “erm, why?” 

“i thought it was standard policy to travel together in the order. y’know, safety in numbers.” 

“oh. ah. no, i’m not alone,” he says, glancing out the window towards the edge of the garden. she doesn’t follow his look but she knows, somehow, who’s there, knows why he won’t come in even though it’s fucking november and cold as shit. sadness and anger play in her body for a second before settling into resignation. 

“does he—” she starts and then stops, shaking her head. he’s old enough to know what he’s doing.

peter’s watching her with an air of uneasiness, like he’s nervous she’s going to explode or ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do. she just shakes her head again and nudges a stray mandrake with her finger. 

“he’s, um—” 

“don’t,” she says sharply, glad she doesn’t have to see james’ face again after he walked away, fucked her and left her without another word. she’s not sure what she’d say. she’s not sure she could look at him. “just don’t.”

peter shuts his mouth. 

dorcas comes down the stairs after that, still abnormally pale. it makes the bruises ringing her neck stand out all the more, even with her hair hiding half. peter winces when he sees her. 

“fuck, doe,” he says and the two girls exchange weary half-smiles.

“a bit of a shock, isn’t it?” dorcas says as lightly as she can manage. he doesn’t quite know what to do with the humour so he shrugs it off, handing her a cloak. 

“here. it’s fucking cold out there. wrap up, yeah?” 

lily helps her swing it around her shoulders so it’s straight down her back, hood pulled up around her ears. dorcas grabs her hands before she can step back, squeezing them with her fingers.

“thank you, lily,” she says quietly. “i— thank you.” 

“love you, doe,” lily answers, pressing a kiss to dorcas’ cheek. “don’t get fucking killed. please.” 

“i won’t. promise i won’t.” 

“and come visit again. but this time not covered in blood, if you can help it.” 

dorcas gives her a tiny smile, the corners of her mouth tipping up ever so slightly. “we can relive our hogwarts days again, yeah? all boy talk and silly giggling.” 

lily laughs. “deal,” she says, not sure why it feels so desperate crawling out of her mouth. the restless feeling is back under her skin, making her itch and want to cling to the two of them, never let them go from the safety of the cottage. 

peter leaves his coffee mug on the counter, still half full, and pulls dorcas out the door towards a empty patch of the garden. empty, until james steps out from beneath his cloak and gives dorcas a one-armed hug. 

lily’s stomach twists again at the sight of him and she steps back from the window as he glances her way, looking for her for a fraction of a second before whisking away. 

 

_mum,_

_i don’t know if you’ve received my other letter yet. i haven’t gotten a response from you, but it’s only been about a month and we both know how rubbish you are at responding in a timely way. i shouldn’t expect anything less but i am a little disappointed whenever there’s not any post for me from you. if you use the envelope i gave you, they won’t be able to track it by magic._

_don’t know if they’d even think to track it by post. i wouldn’t put it past them, but it seems so appallingly muggle that, on the other hand, i don’t think they’d even think to try it._

_it’s the end of november right now and i can’t bear to think of christmas. i know there’s something strong celebrating joy even in the midst of darkness but i don’t think i can stomach the idea of celebrating it all by myself in my drafty cottage on the cliffs by the sea in wales. it’s so far from everyone i know, everyone i care about. a very happy christmas, indeed._

_last year i went to james’ house. do you remember that? it was before everything became so dire. the war was real, then, but somehow not as brutal. i can’t puzzle my mind around it either. i think it was before they died, james’ parents, before he got so hard and bitter and angry._

_maybe the war was still brutal but i could just handle it better. it’s hard to be able to fucking handle everything when you’re stuck in a house by yourself, when you can’t go a week without someone dying, or nearly dying, when your boyfriend_ leaves _after you fight and fuck._

_it piles on top of you like so many stones, weighing you down as you struggle in the ocean. god, i’d love to drown but not like this, never like this._

_where the fuck did we go so wrong?_

_lily._

// 

they had been fighting, caught in some melee with death eaters. outnumbered, but it hadn’t really mattered, not when the five of them were fighting together. sirius had laughed when a spell hit his cousin rosier in the face. 

“fucking love family reunions,” he said, satisfied, and james had laughed too, throwing up a quick shield charm in front of lily when she didn’t notice an errant curse going her way. 

“thanks, love,” she shouted and he winked her way. remus and peter were back to back somewhere to the left of her, james and sirius on the other side, and her in the middle. the way the four of them fought was incredible, spells weaving around through each other as they duelled seamlessly. they didn’t need to talk, just fell into sync as easily as breathing, almost one entity instead of four boys. no wonder they laughed as they fought. she did too, watching them, sitting in the middle of their storm. 

the change had happened in a blink of an eye. there was a crack like the firecrackers the boys in her childhood neighbourhood would set off to make trouble, and all the air sucked out of the room as four figures like shadows dropped into place. 

“enough,” voldemort ordered and everyone’s wands dropped to the ground. lily’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the wizard in front of her. james’ hand found his way to hers, hot and trembling in her own that had gone suddenly cold. 

“stop this,” said voldemort. “enough with the shed of clean blood. it is too precious to be spilled.” 

sirius and james stiffened, sirius sending dark looks their way. bellatrix had cackled, eyeing them all with a wild look in her eyes and lily was sure sirius would’ve lunged for her had they not all been frozen in place. 

voldemort extended a hand towards the pair of them, white and ghost-like. “this can end if you join me. put this silly war to rest and stop the senseless bloodshed.” 

“no,” james bit out, sharp like a gunshot in the room. sirius shook his head violently, hatred screwing up his features into something ugly. bellatrix hissed. 

“you dare reject the dark lord,” she said shrilly, her voice grating over lily’s ears. “you deny, the honour, the _privilege--”_

she stopped at voldemort’s upheld hand but still glowered. voldemort turned back towards lily, red eyes glowing in the gloom and pinning her feet to the ground, pushing out every inch of air from her lungs. 

“she is powerful,” he mused as his eyes flicked over lily’s body, burning like he had lit her aflame, “your mudblood. she could come too, the both of you. we could be unstoppable, james potter. there could be place for her at your side, even with her tainted--”

“never,” lily said, shocking herself at the sharpness of her voice, in the power behind it. 

“no,” repeated james and his fingers were around hers like a vice, nearly crushing them. “on my fucking life, _never._ ”

“your life it is,” said voldemort and raised her wand. sirius exploded into movement then, faster than she could ever be, and the boys with him. james dropped her hand, pushed her down to the floor and snatched up his wand in one fluid movement. bellatrix and sirius were fighting even before lily hit the ground, staring at her own wand and the bottom of voldemort’s robes. 

peter was next to her, pale and frozen on the ground, his wand just out of his reach. she pushed it in his direction. “peter, headquarters-- go,” she ordered. it took him a moment but his fingers scrabbled around his wand and he apparated with a crack lost in the fray. 

remus, peter and sirius where above her, fending off the attack as best they could but lily could tell they were tired, could tell it was a rapidly losing battle. she sent off a spell and turned to james, yelling frantically. 

“take sirius and _go,_ ” she nearly screamed, her hair singing as bellatrix sent a killing curse too close for comfort. “back to the order, i’ll grab--” 

james nodded, shoving her away from him towards remus as voldemort’s wand came down in a flash of light between them. barely making out james sprinting at sirius through the smoke, her hand clamped down on remus’ arm and she desperately shouted the apparation spell, fixing the order in her mind. 

remus had tried to twist his arm out of lily’s grip before he realised what was happening but she hangs on harder, letting nothing break into her loop of _safety at the order we’re going to the order they’ll be safe the order the order._

they both toppled over as soon as they hit the ground, too weak with adrenaline to keep themselves upright. remus still hadn’t said a word, his forehead pulled into a frown and terror playing around his eyes. 

“the other two?” he finally managed. “pete?” 

“coming,” she breathed out around a terrible pressure building in her chest. “they’re coming, they’re coming.” 

james and sirius burst into existence then, swaying and swearing, but very much alive. she collapsed into tears as soon james looked at her, deep, wrenching ones that didn’t let her speak, born out of fear and anxiety and the absolute certainty that she had just stared death in the face. 

james dropped to her knees in front of her and pulled her into a hug so tight it almost hurt, held her until her sobbing stopped and the shaking in her body didn’t threaten to tear her apart. 

 

four days later, irene eddis’ body turned up, twisted and scarred and mouth open in agony. sarah wills, another order member, went missing as well. robert willams, jack brown, helen and cathy mccaiver, all of them found in the same state as irene, all muggleborn.

james’ face had grown harder and harder with every story about the deaths. all of the muggleborns in the order were growing restless, looking over their shoulders more. james drew closer to her, wouldn’t let her out of his sight sometimes.

“please,” he had said one night, their faces so close together in the dark bedroom, her hand curled up in his shirt right over his heart. it beat steadily. “please, don’t risk it anymore.” 

“i’m not going to hide away from you-know-who because i’m scared, james. i won’t give him that satisfaction.”

“please,” he just repeated and brushed his mouth over hers, an end to that conversation.

 

except, mary macdonald was found next, found with mudblood scratched into her arm. there was no subtlety there, no way to fight around the reason why she had died so brutally. 

dumbledore had agreed with james. the risk was too high. she could still be a part of the order, just not a fighting part. besides, they needed someone with lily’s ability to brew potions. she had never wanted to be a healer but she swallowed back her complaints and let herself be set up in a cottage in drizzly wales. 

she drowned in her loneliness and james drowned in his guilt, and slowly she watched the days between his visits stretch longer and longer until she was by herself more days than not. until that fire and lightning, that spark that made it all bearable, faded to something cold. 

// 

she’s midway through a particularly tricky part of a particularly tricky potion when she hears the door swing open, hears the sound of a dog panting. 

“just a moment, sirius,” she murmurs, frowning at the consistency of what’s in her cauldron. 

“lily,” sirius says and something in his voice makes her pause, makes her drop her spoon against the side of the cauldron, and turn. sirius’ face is blank except a tightness in his eyes. “it’s james.” 

she can’t breathe for a second, can’t _think_ with the room starting to spin around her. her stomach twists, radiating pain out from her core to the very ends of her fingers. 

“dead?” she says, the words tasting strange in her mouth. 

“no,” sirius answers and his mouth flattens into a hard line, making the lines in his face look deeper. “not-- they have him, lily. him and cardaroc, they have him.” 

“i-- what?” the room is still spinning and it’s hard to form the words. she takes in a shaky breath and presses her fingers to the counter behind her, praying it keeps her up. 

“fucking _bellatrix_ \--” 

“sirius, what are you saying?” she asks desperately. her fingers are digging into the wood so hard she might be leaving dents but her legs still feel unsteady underneath her. sirius frowns at her, face screwed up in anger and worry and every emotion lily feels biting away at her mind right now. his face clears after a moment until it just looks _broken_ and that scares her more than anything else. 

“he’s missing,” he says flatly, like any intonation would shatter him. “he went out with cardaroc on some dumb fucking mission for dumbledore and was ambushed. kidnapped them instead of killing them. we don’t know where they are but we’re looking. dumbledore’s looking.” there must be something concerning about her face because sirius takes a step forward, reaching for her. “lily, we’re going to find him, i promise, we--

the room blus in front of her eyes as her legs give and she drops to the ground, as neatly as a marionnette whose strings had been cut. 

 

the first thing she registers is sirius’ voice, frantic and loud, yelling her name. it grates across her ears, burrows into her brain and pounds at her head, but she can’t move a muscle to stop it. 

the second is the ache in her ankle and knee, folded underneath her. she must’ve hit them on the way down then. not broken, probably, but sprained. 

the third is the dull nausea that’s taken up residence in her belly again, not enough for her to do anything about but enough to make her miserable. 

“fucking hell, lily, what the fuck is wrong with you? you have to wake up, for god’s sake, _wake the fuck up._ ” sirius’ hands are hot on her shoulders, curled around them like he’d like to shake her but he doesn’t, just continues in that painfully loud way of his. “i swear to god evans, if this kills you i’m going to bring you back to kill you myself.” 

with immaculate effort, she opens one eye and sirius’ worried face swims into view in front of her. it clears for a second in relief before crumpling angrily again. 

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he bites out, and it’s only because she knows him so well that she can see the way he’s trying not to cry, trying to hold himself together. “you can’t just… you can’t just fucking _faint_ , alright? not on my watch, not when--” he cuts himself off and she lifts her hand to try and push herself upright. 

“m’sorry i scared you,” she says, trying to blink away the tears but not quite succeeding. “m’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry.” 

sirius’ fingers tighten for a moment before he lets her go only long enough to pull her into a hug. she goes willingly, resting her forehead on sirius’ shoulder and grits her teeth against the sobs that want to come out. she tightens her fingers in sirius’ shirt as he pats clumsily at her back, his heart beating a wild, wild rhythm under her head. 

“m’sorry,” she says again and her voice breaks. sirius doesn’t offer condolences or promises or platitudes, doesn’t say much of anything. she doesn’t think she could handle it if he did. 

“don’t ever faint on me again, evans,” he says, hours later when they’ve moved from sitting on the kitchen floor to staring blankly at the empty fireplace in the lounge. his voice is gravelly from disuse. 

“i won’t,” she promises. “i won’t.” 

 

sirius trips over the stupid pumpkin outside her front door when he leaves, his foot going straight through its face without any resistance. 

“shit,” he says succintly, wiping his boot against the dead grass in the front lawn. “shit, sorry.” 

she waves her hand, the other clinging to the blanket wrapped around her body to keep away the chill. “don’t worry about it.” 

sirius nods, takes two steps out, and then pauses. he tilts his head to the side to catch sight of her out of the corner of his eye. it’s a surprisingly canine motion that would’ve made her smile under any other circumstance. 

“evans,” he says, careful. “if you need me to, i can, erm. i can stay. here.” 

for a moment, she entertains the idea, imagines having someone else in the cottage to share the loneliness with, imagines having a body around so she knows she’s not alone for a while. but she knows sirius and knows herself, so she shakes her head. 

“no, padfoot. we’d kill each other in a few days.” 

the corner of sirius’ mouth closest to her quirks up in a smile. he salutes her lazily before turning back and tramping out of her front yard. 

 

she’s lived without james for weeks and weeks before, gone so long without him in her bed or even seeing his face. but this, this is different. he’s not just left, he’s missing and the weight of his disappearance hangs heavy on her. there’s no reprieve from it, no hope of seeing him through the window. he’s just… gone. 

 

the first nightmare comes a week after sirius’ visit. it starts innocently enough, just her walking in a dark forest. she walks and walks until the branches get thicker, the air gets heavier, until it’s like she’s slogging through concrete instead of forest. her feet catch in something and pull her to a stop, trapping her in the thick darkness. it presses on her skin, heavy, heavy, heavy, completely and utterly alone. 

she wakes in the gloom before dawn, throat cracked from screaming and nausea building in her stomach. she lays there until she can’t stand it, until she has to scramble to throw the covers off the bed and bolt for the bathroom. she vomits her fears up into the toilet bowl, fingers scrabbling on the smooth porcelain that gives her no purchase. 

twisting to avoid the toilet, she slumps on the ground and pillows her head on her arm, far too exhausted to crawl back to bed. she lays there, body shivering, and dozes, dreaming of a glowing stag nosing at her cheek. 

 

she soon learns to keep a mixing bowl from her bed, one that she transformed from a paperclip, and vanishes the mess afterwards. it’s much easier that way, much more comfortable than falling back asleep on the floor. 

her hair gets limp and the circles under her eyes grow from the lack of sleep, and she takes to curling up for a catnap whenever she feels like it. she can’t make it through the day otherwise and the nightmares are worse when she’s exhausted, crashing on her brain like bricks. 

and still, on the corners of her consciousness, the stag sits and watches and waits. 

 

the knock on the door startles her, timid as it is. she lifts her head from her knees and regards the door with a tired sort of look. 

“come in,” she calls finally. it pushes open and peter timidly steps in, frowning when he sees her on the sofa. 

“lily?’ 

“hi,” she says, dropping her cheek back to her knees and closing her eyes for a moment. when she opens them, peter is still where he was, staring at her with unguarded curiosity. “what?” 

“you look awful,” he tells her bluntly. 

“haven’t been sleeping.” 

“why?” 

she shrugs a shoulder as best she can in her position. “can’t. too many nightmares.” 

peter frowns again, opening his mouth to say something and closing it when the door swings open again. 

sirius stops in his tracks when he spots her, scowling. “thought you said you weren’t going to faint on me again.” 

she huffs out a laugh and unfolds herself carefully, wincing when her joints crack. “wasn’t planning on it, black.” 

he just grunts, wrapping a strong arm around her as soon as she’s in reach. she leans into his side gratefully. 

“what are you both doing here?” she asks. peter wraps his own arms around himself and glances around the dim room. 

“checking on you.” 

she tips her head up to look at sirius, who nods. 

“no one’s heard from you in weeks, evans,” continues peter as he points his wand at the fireplace. a fire springs to life, draping the room with light and giving out enough heat to satisfy him. “we’re worried.” 

“i’ve not had visitors for longer before.” 

“doesn’t mean you weren’t checked in on,” peter says and instantly presses his lips together, looking guilty. lily narrows her eyes at him. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” peter just shakes his head and sirius quirks an eyebrow at her when she nudges him. “have you been spying on me?” 

“not us,” sirius answers. she’s too tired to pry so she just sighs, letting the warmth prickle across her skin. 

“thanks for the fire, pete.” he hesitates before murmuring a _you’re welcome_ and she opens her eyes in time to catch the look he’s exchanging with sirius. 

“what?” neither of them answer. she wriggles out from under sirius’ arm and swings around so she’s perpendicular to both of them, glaring. “you’re both being evasive and i don’t like it.” 

“it’s just cold in here, evans,” sirius says after a heartbeat, turning a blank expression on her. peter nods. 

“and dark.” 

she shrugs. “too much effort, i reckon. i sleep most of the day, anyway. nightmares,” she says to sirius as lightly as she can manage. he squints at her but she changes the subject before he can get more words out. “why hasn’t anyone shown up bleeding recently? is everyone okay?” 

“fine,” peter says. “we’re just laying low. dumbledore wants us to stay out of it until we can regroup, figure things out.” 

she nods, fidgeting with the hem of her jumper. it hangs loose on her body where it didn’t hang loose before and she absently tries to remember the last real meal she ate. it was a while away now. she’s been munching on things here and there, but they come up in the morning after the nightmares. 

she looks up when she registers the silence, takes in the boys both looking at her oddly. “hmm?” 

“you seem off, lily,” says sirius. 

“i told you. i’ve not been sleeping,” she replies airily, nudging past him to find something to eat in the kitchen. sirius follows. 

“it’s more than that.” 

she finds a pack of biscuits that aren’t too unappealing so she pulls the sleeve out and bites into one. “pardon if i’m not at the top of my form,” she says through a mouthful. “i’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

“i know.” 

“have you heard anything?” she blurts out, rather shocked she held out this long. “have you— what do you know? have you found him?” 

she sounds desperate, she _knows,_ but now that the question’s out, she can’t shove it back in, can’t stop herself from _hopinghopinghoping._

sirius is quiet for a what seems like a long time, one hand thoughtlessly running through his hair. she tracks the movement and feels her chest twinge.

“we don’t… we know… we don’t have anything of importance. nothing we can use.” 

the room starts to spin again. 

“oh,” she says, breathless. “oh, okay.” 

“lily,” sirius starts, his eyes are sharp with concern, but peter interrupts him. 

“lily, what’s this?” he demands, prodding at the cauldrons sitting on the windowsill. “what are you brewing?” 

“shit,” she gasps out, horror flooding through her, shocking her like ice water. “shit, what day is it?” 

“the thirteenth,” sirius says, furrowing his eyebrows. “thirteenth of december.” 

“shit,” she repeats and scrubs a hand over her face. “that’s… that’s okay. it’s okay. we’re fine.” 

“what’s in these pots, lily?” peter repeats. 

“potions.” 

he narrows his eyes at her. “i can see that.”

“well, one’s a potion. the other one’s just soaking for a while. scalded it. it’s felix felicius. frank asked me to make some, brought me a list ages ago.” 

“i thought you made that already,” sirius interjects and she shrugs. 

“i made some more. figured we could all do with a little luck,” she says as evenly as possible. sirius seems to accept, turning round to snag a drink glass and filling it up, 

but peter doesn’t just accept it. he pokes at the cauldron a little more, swiping his finger through a drop on the lip. 

“pete,” she says quietly as he rubs at the solution. he was always the best at potions out of the four of them, excelled where they passed, and she realises too late that she shouldn’t be letting him too close. understanding dawns on his face and swings his head to stare at her in surprise. she shakes her head, putting a finger to her lips and glancing at sirius’ back. 

_please don’t_ she mouths and watches the indecision war on his face. finally, his face gives in and he nods, looking like he just bit into a lemon. she lets out her breath and flashes him the brightest smile she could muster as a thank you. 

“speaking of potions, we’ve brought you another list,” sirius says as he faces them again. “if you’re up to it.” 

“yeah,” she answers. “reckon i could do it.” 

he hands over the paper and she scans it over again, thinking through each potion. they’re mostly repeats, but she’s been running low on supplies. 

“if you give me a bit, i can just get you the supply list now. unless you have somewhere else to be?” 

sirius and peter shake their heads in tandem and she smiles for the first time in weeks. they sit on her counter as she does inventory, sirius calling out the ingredients for every potion and peter writing down what she needs in his careful hand. they make quick work of the task.

it’s all fine until her elbow brushes past a jar that’s too precariously placed, sending it crashing down on the ground. it explodes on impact and lily’s not quite sure what it is exactly, but it’s something pickled and pungent, and the ever-familiar feeling of bile rises in her throat. she chokes out a gasp and clamps her fingers over her mouth, running towards the kitchen sink. 

she’s too busy retching to care about the two startled boys behind her; her hair’s dropping in front of her face and getting into the sick and _god_ she’s so tired of all this business. 

“er, lily?” sirius asks when she’s gotten control of herself a little and is just breathing heavily. his hands cautiously go to the nape of her neck, gathering her hair for her so it’s out of her face. 

“thank you,” she mumbles, reaching for the faucet and sticking her mouth underneath. she drinks until the taste has mainly gone away and then wipes her face on her sleeve, straightening up to face the two. 

they’re both staring at her again, equal parts disgust and worry, and she grimaces at them. 

“what in the name of merlin’s fucking pants was _that_ ,” peter lets out, eyes wide. lily gives a pathetic chuckle in spite of herself, sagging back against the sink as tiredness starts to creep in her bones again.

“dropped a jar and couldn’t handle the smell. sorry, lads.” 

“it’s just pickled toad, evans. is your stomach really that weak?” demands sirius. 

she lifts up one shoulder in a half-shrug. “lately it has been, yeah.” she takes in their disbelieving expressions and rolls her eyes. “i’m fine, just an upset stomach. you don’t need to worry.” 

neither of them seem too comforted by this but neither do they seem too inclined to press the issue. she nods to herself. 

“is that everything we need? oh, you should probably add pickled toad to there, just in case.” 

she waits for peter to mark out the letters on the sheet and then watches as he folds it carefully into fourth, tucking it into his pocket. 

“do you need anything else?” he asks anxiously. “food? anything?” 

“thank you, pete, but i think i’m just fine. _promise_ , i’m fine,” she stresses, throwing a look at sirius who still hasn’t lost his suspicion. he just shakes his head as she lets out a yawn, feeling her eyes slip shut. 

“guess we’ll go,” peter mumbles and there’s a thump as sirius pushes himself from his perch on the counter. “let us know if you feel better, alright? or if you get worse.” 

“yeah, ‘course,” she says, reaching out to snag sirius’ sleeve. “wait, padfoot. if you— if you hear anything, you’ll let me know? the instant you hear it?” 

he steps closer and drops a kiss on the crown of her head. closing her eyes against the sudden wetness, she takes in a deep, steadying breath. 

“you know i will,” he tells her quietly, squeezing her arm quickly. “the instant i hear.” 

“thank you,” she manages. “love you both.” 

they chorus out their goodbyes and she has just enough energy to ease the door closed behind them before curling up on the sofa again. she drags a blanket over her body and falls asleep in minutes. 

she dreams of toads and lists and a shadow stepping into the dawn, too bright for her to see. 

 

she has just enough energy to make it to the apparition point and then onto remus’ flat wihtout collapsing mid-journey. she leans against the door and falls in when remus opens it, saved from a spill when he catches her arm. 

“merlin, lily,” he says, steadying her. he looks greyer, both in hair and in face, and she matches his frown when she rightens herself enough to look at him. “every time you come, you’re in worse shape.” 

“sorry,” she tells him and sits on the stairs for a moment. he gives her a look before bending down to quickly unlace her boots, lining them neatly up next to his own. she breathes for a second, feels her heart beat dully. “fuck, i’m tired.” 

“what’s wrong with you?” 

she shakes her head, not willing to relive it again and again, not willing to choke on the fear and despair she keeps trying to push away. 

“i can’t, remus,” she says, closer to crying than a minute before. “i can’t, it’s too— don’t make me talk about it. i’m just tired, alright? i haven’t been sleeping well.” 

he clearly doesn’t want to let it go, but he does anyway because it’s remus and he’s her friend and recognizes when she’s close to breaking. wordlessly, he pulls her to her feet and doesn’t let go, carefully steering her to the sofa and fussing over her until she gives him a half-hearted shove. 

“for fuck’s sake, i’m exhausted, remus. not dying.” 

“you don’t know,” he insists and tucks the blanket tighter around her feet. the sweetness of the action nearly makes her cry again, tips her from tired to melancholy. he doesn’t seem to notice but he settles back next to her, chewing on the side of his cheek. “you didn’t… you didn’t have to come here for me if you were feeling poorly.”

she levels a glare at him, albeit one less intense than usual. “remus.” 

“i’m serious. you could’ve sent a letter, i could’ve come there, you could’ve abandoned the whole thing all together and let me…” he trails off, fingers methodically brushing over a patch of blanket. she catches his hands and stills them with her own, tightens her fingers around them until he looks at her.

“i came because you’re my friend and i like talking to you. i’m not scared of whatever monster you think you are, okay?” he nods uncertainly. “i’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re not scary. not even close.”

“if you say so.” 

“i do,” she says sleepily, sliding down on the sofa until she’s in a more comfortable position. remus’ flat is still cold, but she’s warm in her jacket and blanket. besides, remus is warm and comfortable and _here_ , so she scoots closer to him and sighs at the heat. 

she’s just about slipped off when she starts, dragging herself awake long enough to paw at her coat. “oh, fuck, wait.” 

“what?” remus asks, amused. she digs through her pockets until she finds what she’s looking for. 

“here.” she pushes the vial into his hands and closes his fingers around it. “wolfsbane.” 

remus mutters something she doesn’t quite catch but she just pats him on the arm and lets herself fall asleep. 

 

remus is still next to her when she wakes up, one hand holding a book and the other absently drawing circles on the back of the sofa. she watches him for a moment as his eyes skim the page and he reaches up to flip the page. 

“ _1984_ ,” she says groggily and he looks down in surprise. “isn’t it?” 

“mhm,” he hums. “big brother n’all that. think it could all happen in--” he checks his watch and taps at his chin. “--one year.” 

“could do. hope it doesn’t.” 

he hums again, unfolding the book and setting it carefully down on his other side. “so,” he draws out, not really looking at her. “you feel asleep.” 

she shifts, pushing herself up to a sitting position, figures this is one conversation that shouldn’t be held when she’s sprawled out. “i did.” 

“want to talk about it?” 

“not particularly, no. why is sirius mad at you?” 

“lily…” 

“he’s really fucking angry, remus, and i want to know why.” 

“he doesn’t trust me.” 

“why not?” 

“he thinks i’m going to join with you-know-who.”

“you?” lily says, incredulously. “why the fuck does he think you’d do that?” 

a muscle jumps in his cheek as she watches his profile. “cause i’m a werewolf. why else?” 

“he’s known you were a werewolf for _years_ and didn’t ever suspect you turning.” 

he sighs. “do you remember when i asked you if you ever wanted to leave?” she nods and he sighs again, twisting his fingers in the blanket. “i asked him the same question, but earlier. it wasn’t even a serious question, just something born out of exhaustion but he flipped his shit, thought it meant i was abandoning them. that i was a coward,” he says sourly. “suppose he’s right--” 

she rolls her eyes and tips forward, catching remus’ chin and making him look at her, cutting off the protests that have started to fall from his mouth. “no, no, shut up. it’s bullshit, it all is. you’re not a coward and you’re not going to join voldemort because you thought about running away once.” 

“i’ve been a coward in the past. i’ve mostly been a coward,” he says bitterly but she covers his mouth with her hand before he can go on. he gives her a baleful look but she just glowers back. 

“i know you’ve got a bit of imposter syndrome, but you need to shut up and stop wallowing around, playing the victim. this could end, you know it could, you just have to fight for it. go. plead your case. change the minds of the stupid prat you call a friend. he _misses_ you, even if he won’t admit it.” 

she’s breathing harshly by the time she’s done, trembling a bit and hoping remus won’t notice. he seems to be too wrapped up in his thoughts to comment so they sit there in silence for a minute. she recognises the mischievous look in his eye a half second before he licks her palm, making her yank it away from his mouth and scowl. 

“gross, remus,” says lily, wiping it on the sleeve of his cardigan. “absolutely disgusting. i expected that from james, but never from you.” 

he looks pleased with himself, chuckling. “can’t live with him for seven years and not pick up on some tricks.” 

she makes another noise of disgust and smacks his arm until he stops laughing. the happiness feels nice even if it’s a desperate attempt to sellotape what’s broken, even if it’s just a thin thread for her to cling to, knowing it’s going to fall apart any moment. 

remus sobers after a moment, rubbing at his jaw as he ponders something. she’s leaned her head against the back of the sofa, mid-yawn. 

“what?” 

“you’re so pale,” he says quietly. “are you sure you’re fine?” 

“remus—“ 

“be honest with me lily. please.” 

she sighs, running a hand through her hair in a way that makes her miss james with every bone in her body, wriggling her fingers to untangle them from the strands. “i told you i’ve been feeling poorly.” 

“in what way?” he asks carefully and she rights her head so she can concentrate on his face better. 

“can’t bloody stay awake, can i?” he raises an eyebrow, curious. “can’t sleep. can’t stay awake. fucking exhausted all the time. sicking my guts up at odd intervals. it’s all rather pathetic, really.” 

“that doesn’t sound okay.” 

he, like his friends before him, doesn’t seem to buy any of it, but she doesn’t really know what else to say. she’s not alright, clearly, but there’s nothing she can do about it but grit her teeth and pray it gets a tiny bit easier. sometimes she doesn’t know if it ever will; in the dead of the night when she can’t quite keep the fears at bay, she wonders if she’ll be like this forever, grieving and terrified and sad all the fucking time. “grief does that to a person, or so i’m told.” 

his eyebrows come crashing down. “grief?”

she looks away at that, every emotion that she’d pushed away flooding back, drowning her until she feels like she can’t quite breathe. he catches her arm, holds it until she looks back at him, reads the anxiety in his eyes. 

“who died, lily?” he asks, urgent, and she can feel a frantic sort of energy thrumming beneath his skin. “who died?” 

she tilts her head in confusion. “they— no one told you?” she says disbelievingly, trying to make sense of what he’s asking. “they didn’t—“

“ _lily.”_

she stares at him for a long minute, trying to find the words, trying to figure out if she can say them without getting sick again. remus grows more and more panicked but she can’t make herself speak. understanding dawns in his eyes and for a single, tense moment she thinks he’s about to explode but he just goes limp. 

“it’s james, isn’t it?” he says desperately. “he’s the only— it’s james.” 

“missing.” she forces her lips to form the words. “not dead. missing.” 

he inclines his head at the distinction but they both know it’s the same thing nowadays, knows he’s as good as dead if he isn’t already. 

“since when?” 

“beginning of the month. i would’ve… i’d have told you, i promise. i thought you knew, i thought someone would’ve told you already. and i…” she lets out a laugh that’s packed with bitterness and disbelief, a long cry from happiness. “i’ve not been myself, lately.” 

the grief on his face breaks long enough for concern to shutter in. “you should’ve…” he trails off and shuts his mouth firmly, shaking his head. they both know there’s nothing else she could’ve done, knows there’s no way for anyone to handle the reality of what happened properly. 

“fucking _hell,_ ” he says, voice breaking and with it his resolve. he covers his face with his hands but she can still tell he’s crying, can still see the jerking of his shoulders as he tries to control it. 

she’s tired of this. she’s tired of tears, of fear, of blood, of the constant terror that something catastrophic is around the corner. she’s tired of watching her friends in agony and not being able to take it away from them. it’s exhausting and she can hardly bear to hold it any longer. 

remus flinches when she touches his arm so she folds her hands in her lap and waits for his breathing to level out, waits for him to go still and stop shaking. it takes a while but she just waits, like sirius waited for her, like james did all those years ago when she broke down after meeting voldemort. 

he recovers faster than she did, scrubbing at his face with his wrist when he’s calmed down. he’s pale again, greying skin making his scars stand out on his cheekbones. 

“sorry,” he mumbles and she shakes her head. “i didn’t mean… to keep you.” 

“i know,” she says, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and she can feel his brow wrinkling under her lips. “they’ll come looking for me if i don’t go.” 

remus nods, giving her a weak smile as she stands. it takes a moment to untangle herself from the blankets, even longer for her to pull on her boots. he leans against the wall and stares blankly at the door, shifting aside when she needs to reach past.

“if you need me,” she tells him quietly and his gaze shifts to her, “during the full moon or anytime, let me know.” 

he nods stiffly and she knows he won’t but she had to try. flinging open the door, she tosses another goodbye over her shoulder and walks straight into someone. 

“oomph,” she grunts, flinging her arms out so she doesn’t go toppling to the ground. the obstacle in her way sways back and then forward again, fury written all over his face. “sirius,” says lily, vaguely feeling remus’ hand steadying her at her back. “what—” 

“wolfsbane, evans?” he snarls, flicking his eyes between her and remus. “you’re helping _him?_ ”

“sirius—” she tries again but he talks over her, fingers curled around his wand and practically shaking. 

“after the whole fight we had, you’re still not _listening._ ” 

he takes a step forward, like he’s about to lunge, and lily puts her hands up to stop him. 

“will you listen to me, sirius black?” she nearly shouts, hitting his chest once for emphasis. remus has gone completely motionless behind her, whole body coiled and tense, ready to fight. “how did you even _know_ i was—” she narrows her eyes. “peter.” 

“he recognized it the other day,” sirius answers, still seething, still shooting daggers at remus. “he told me when you weren’t at the cottage.” 

“i’m gonna kill him,” she says grimly and that gets his attention for a brief minute, scowling down at her. 

“not if i kill you first. honestly, helping the fucking werewolf scum—”

“hey,” she shouts and slams her hands down again. “out of fucking order, black. he’s your _friend_.” 

“was,” sirius sneers and she can feel remus flinch again, the slightest bit. “he was going to abandon us, evans. leave us to the wolves.” 

she rolls her eyes and curls her hands into fists, grabbing his jacket lapels and giving him the slightest of shakes. “oh, for god’s sake, sirius. i know you’ve got abandonment issues a mile wide but this is ridiculous, even for you” 

“it’s not.” 

“it _is,_ ” she bites out, letting go of sirius to whirl around behind her. “i don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but you need to stop it. for god’s sake, stop this madness before i _kill_ both of you for being stupid.” 

“i don’t--” 

“sirius, look at me. no, _look at me._ ” she grabs his face with her hands and forces him to look at her, traps him in her fingers and pulls until his eyes break away from remus’. “you’re the most idiotic, poncey, bullish, pigheaded person i know, you and— you and james. i know you’re loyal to a fault, but remus didn’t abandon you. he wasn’t ever going to, okay? whatever else he did to you is being blown out of proportion.” 

sirius pulls his head free and sneers. “he’s a fucking coward’s—”

lily whips out her wand in a blink, leveling it at sirius with a steady hand. “so help me god, if you continue that sentence i will hex you into the next century. remus was not a coward just because you were wrong and a prat. understood?” 

he nods once, watching her carefully until she lowers her arm. he knows not to cross her; she had hexed him once and it had taken madam pomfrey two days to fix him. she had nearly gotten booted from being head girl after that one.

“it’s your funeral if you trust his word, lily, your own bloody funeral for believing a werewolf.” 

“oh my _god,_ ” she cries out, giving sirius a shove so he stumbles back a step. “come here, the both of you.” she seizes both of their arms and stomps out of the tiny corridor and into the living room, to the bewilderment of the other two. growling, she pushes them both into a closet and bars the door with her body. 

“here. you both are staying in here until you either kill each other, or work something out.”

“evans,” sirius says, dangerously even, “what are you doing?” 

“lily,” remus protests and it’s the first time he’s spoken since sirius arrived. she doesn’t let him continue.

“no, i’m tired of this and it’s going to end now. i’m locking the door and i don’t care how you do it as long as you _stop_ this madness.” 

they both start shouting, crowding forward, but she pays them no mind. stepping out of the door, she swings it closed and locks it with her wand. the handle jiggles for a while, muffled yells coming from the other side, and the door shudders as sirius slams into it with his shoulder. 

“it’s sealed by magic,” she calls. “it’s not opening anytime soon. i’ll be here when you’re done.” 

she leaves them to it and makes her way into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea. she can vaguely hear yelling coming from the closet, varying tones and voices, and she hums to drown it out when it gets too loud. 

she works through three cups of tea and is halfway through making a cake when someone raps on the door. it’s been quiet for a while, suspicious, so she steps over. 

“what?” 

“let us out,” sirius says, tired. “we’re done.” 

“have you worked it out, or is remus dead?” 

“he killed me,” remus answers and she can hear the dryness in his tone even through the wood. clicking her tongue, she unlocks the door and lets the boys tumble out. sirius is disheveled, like he’s been pulling on his hair, and he sends her an angry look when he rights himself. 

“and you call me a liar and a cheat.” 

she shrugs. “if it works, it works. did it work?” 

“marginally,” says remus but neither of them are seething or beating the shit out of each other, so she counts it a win. 

“did sirius get his head out of his arse?”

“marginally,” repeats remus and that gets a smile from sirius, albeit a small one; she’s a foot shorter than him and half a stone lighter. sirius makes a noise that’s more non-committal than affirming, but she’ll take it. she breaks away to look through remus’ refrigerator for something to eat. she settles on a red pepper and some cheese, charming it so it’s a double portion and putting half back.

“are either of you going to tell me what you talked about?” she asks and sirius snorts. 

“not on your life. which may very well be over if you’re wrong about this,” he adds, sending a half-dubious look in remus’ direction. 

“do you honestly want to keep distrusting your friend, sirius? you keep making these excuses.” 

he scowls again. “i don’t want to take any chances.” 

“sirius black, reckless daredevil, doesn’t want to take any _chances_.” 

he crosses his arms over his chest. “not when my friends’ life are at stake, no. not when there’s a war raging on.” 

lily chews on her bite of cheese, squinting thoughtfully. “a little smart, i guess. but you’ve taken it too far. you’re hurting him, sirius. it’s time to admit you’re wrong and _stop_.” 

remus coughs once, rubbing at his eyes. she glances at him and then back at sirius. 

“any more secrets you need to hash out?” she says dryly. sirius pouts before the same mischievous look she had seen on remus’ face not two hours earlier creeps into his eyes. “sirius,” she warns but he doesn’t listen, turns on his heel to look straight at remus

“did you shag iona turner sixth year?” 

remus blinks. 

“sirius! that’s not what i meant!” complains lily.

“why is this relevant?” asks remus and sirius points a finger at him. 

“because i said so. did you?” 

“i don’t--” he hesitates and sirius’ eyes go bright.

“you did, didn’t you?” sirius asks, and remus flounders for an answer. it’s enough for sirius, who grins. “did you also snog her sister--” 

“fuck off, sirius,” remus snaps, his eyes clearing. “fuck right off.” 

“i knew you shagged her,” sirius crows, looking like he just won a lottery. “i fucking _knew_ it and you wouldn’t ever admit to it but i knew you’d give it up eventually. .” 

“i hate you,” remus mutters and rubs at his reddening neck with a hand. “should’ve known you wouldn’t let that one go.” 

sirius points a finger at him and laughs. “no secrets, moony. none.” 

remus flips him off with both hands, but he’s laughing too. lily watches them banter, chewing contentedly on her pepper and swinging her legs against the counter. the way these boys work are confusing-- even more so when they were a bunch of rowdy teenagers-- and the way they flip from anger to affection on each other makes her head spin. they stay angry for so long but then everything’s fixed with a punch to the jaw, a well-timed joke, an offering of an unknown secret. 

it’s mad and mental and doesn’t make sense, but it’s the way they work. and just for a second, watching the two tease each other in the kitchen, she forgets herself for a moment and pretends she’s in simpler times. 

the nightmare’s worse today. usually, it’s just her walking through forests and finding herself alone, but not this one. this one’s of james, and he’s still kidnapped, and writhing in pain at the hands of death eaters. she’s rooted to the ground, unable to move a single centimetre, stuck watching james scream and cry and arch his back so much it cracks his spine. 

she wakes up with tears streaming down her cheeks and her voice hoarse from screaming, glad she has no neighbours within a close distance to call the police. 

it’s dark when she finally pries her eyes open, finally tips her body from curled in ball to her back, taking in deep, shuddering breaths and holding them until her lungs burn. it feels so real, even now, feels like if she looks around she’ll find james crumpled on the ground. 

the nausea kicks in a few minutes later, right on time, and she leans over the side of the bed to vomit into the bucket, vanishes it away with her wand. groaning, she curls back on her side and stares at the shadows change on the wall. 

she thought she had missed james before, when they were fighting. she was a fool. that was nothing, that pain was nothing. this longing is choking her, drowning her, pushing her so deep down into despair that she doesn’t know how she’ll ever dig herself out. 

what she would give to have him there, warm against her back, running his fingers through her hair. she would take james in any mood, in any capacity, in any version. she would have him back as the arrogant fifth year she shouted at, as the distant ex-lover he grew into, _anything._

just as long as he came back to her, she would have him. 

 

it starts as a suspicion, an inkling of a suspicion, as she’s curled up in the dry bathtub, fingers locked around her knees and dressed in an old quidditch shirt of james’. she hasn’t been able to breathe, it feels like, since she woke up. she’s sick every time she thinks about her dream but it won’t leave her brain, won’t give her any respite. 

james, on the ground. james, wailing. james, broken and bruised and in agony. james james james, dying right in front of her eyes. 

she retches but nothing comes up. she’s vomited everything in her already. 

“what the fuck is wrong with me,” she groans to the empty bathroom, listening to the echoes reverberate around the room. “am i dying?” 

it seems too melodramatic to say out loud but she can’t help it, can’t think of anything that would make her feel like this otherwise. just her luck, isn’t it, to be a soldier and die of some stupid illness, hiding in her own bathroom. voldemort would be upset; he wanted to off her himself. 

she groans again and starts the process of unfolding herself from the bath, making slow movements that won’t shock her system. on shaky legs and a tenuous stomach, she makes her way careful to the bedroom, curling up on her side as soon as she can get to the bed. 

the bowl in case she’s sick again is right under her, taunts her a little from its place on the ground. she’d kick it, but that would make her sick. she’s so fucking tired of being sick every morning. every goddamn morning, right on schedule— 

fuck. 

her eyes fly open and she props herself up on an elbow, trying not to hyperventilate. 

“it’s not possible,” she mutters to the window, eyes wide. “it’s not possible, there’s no way it can be. he’s not— and we didn’t— and—oh, fucking hell. fucking _hell.”_

because they _did_ fuck and she hadn’t cast any charms, hadn’t taken any medicine afterwards. it had all been too much of a whirlwind for her to do anything, she’d been so _angry_ throughout the whole thing that she hadn’t even _thought—_

“oh my god. am i pregnant?”

she’s moving before she realises it, stumbling around the room in an unsteady rhythm, finding the warmest clothes she lays her hands on and tugging them on. it’s murder trying to make her limbs go fast enough, go far enough, but she manages to get far enough outside of her cottage to apparate away. 

she lands in an alley and has to lean against the wall for a second to catch her breath, trying to make her head stop spinning. as soon as she can, she trips down the alley to the shop on the corner and scans the aisle until she finds what she needs. there’s not a loo so she goes to the fast food place a few doors down, shutting herself in a stall and ripping open the pregnancy test. 

it was just her fucking luck that it came out positive. 

“i’m pregnant,” she says again, running her hands through her hair, dazed. “james is gone and there’s a war and i’m by myself and i’m _pregnant_.” 

frantically, she unlocks the door and makes a beeline for the mirror, shedding her clothes until she’s just in her top. flattening her hands against her stomach, she turns this way and that. there’s no bump there yet, thank _god._

“i can’t keep it,” she says to her reflection. “that would be mental. i can’t raise a child by myself like this, at a time like this. i can’t…” trailing off, she squares her shoulders and drops her hands from her belly. there’s a deep sadness that’s welling up in her body, sitting in her chest and making her feel suffocated. 

it seems a bit cruel, almost, bringing a baby into the world as it is right now, all hate and war and shambles. carrying a child when death eaters could break down her door any day, kill her with a few syllables doesn’t sound like the right thing to do. 

she doesn’t know the spells but she figures she could find them out. nobody knows she’s pregnant except for her; this could all be a bad dream, another nightmare she tries to forget. 

 

but as much as she knew it was fucked up, there was still something in her that ached to have that baby. a tiny piece of james was with her now, a tiny reminder, and the thought of throwing that away made her stomach flip. 

a son or daughter, _james_ ’ son or daughter, was too precious to let slip away. 

 

but it was irresponsible. she couldn’t be a mother and a soldier, she’s have to pick one, and they both needed her desperately. 

she was only twenty two, for fuck’s sake, still wild and rambunctious and nowhere near being capable of raising a child. the war had made her grow up fast but not like that. 

 

but still. a baby. a _mother._

_//_

“mind if i sit here?” he had asked, fingers on the back of her chair. she had glanced at him and shrugged, nudging the leg so it moved his way a tiny bit. 

“sure.”

he dropped into the seat and folded his arms on the desk, leaning his head against his elbows. 

“everything okay?” 

“couldn’t sleep last night,” he mumbled, turning so he can look at her over the top of his glasses. “i forgot how loud it is with three boys snoring. you would think i’d be used to it by now, but i always forget.”

she smiled at that, fingers twitching as she noticed the hair slipping down his forehead towards his eyes. 

“might i suggest earplugs? or a strong silencing charm?” he had made a dismissive noise and his smile got bigger. “it won’t do to have a head boy who falls asleep in all his classes.”

“it’s rather serendipitous i have a brill head girl who doesn’t mind sharing her notes in said classes,” he replied around a yawn. she found herself turning a tiny bit pink. 

“ _serendipitous_ , james?”

he cracked open an eye to squint at her. “that’s the part of the sentence you’re taking offence to?”

“it’s a rather pretentious word.”

“i’m a rather pretentious boy,” he teased. “it’s going to be a full tine job to keep my head in check.”

“i think i’m qualified for the task. i _have_ had two years of experience.”

“i’ll expect your cv in three business days.”

“has anyone told you that you’re too witty for your own good?”

“plenty of people,” he said, lifting his head and shifting back in his seat. “sirius reminds me often, generally before trying to throttle me.”

“speaking of, where’s your partner in crime and why aren’t you sitting with him?”

he jerked a thumb to the back of the room. “with pete.”

“why not you?”

“he tried to throttle me,” he said matter-of-factly. “he’s not too pleased with me at the mo’.”

“oh?” she said and he snorted, nudging their elbows together. 

“you’re being nosy, evans.” she’d protested but he didn’t seem too upset, just rubbed his chin with a hand. “i might’ve done something this morning he didn’t like.” 

“such as?” 

he flashed her a smile, looking far too pleased with himself. “his snoring was really getting unbearable, so i woke him up by dumping a bucket of water over his head.” 

lily laughed and did too, running a hand through his hair. “that’s brilliant.”

“mm, he jumped up and howled at the top of his lungs. it had the added benefit of waking the rest of the boys up, so i had silence once sirius calmed down a bit.” 

“an effective method.” 

“very, except now he refuses to let me sit with him in every class we have together—which is all of them, nearly— and i’m pretty sure he’s planning something worse.” 

“well, you are head boy. you can just dock him points,” lily had pointed out, mostly joking, but james took the suggestion seriously. 

“genius, evans!” he exclaimed, slapping his hand down on the desk in victory. “brightest witch of our age.” 

“thank you, slughorn,” she said dryly. “besides, it can’t be too bad. you can sit next to me in all of our shared classes if sirius continues to shun you. make him jealous, y’know.” she blushed when she realised what she said, wondered if it came across as too forward, but he smiled down at her. 

“sounds like a plan.” 

 

she’s not sure when the interest started—probably somewhere around the middle of march sixth year— but it had only grown over the summer, until it blossomed into a crush after that potions class. she wasn’t the only witch to fancy him, not by a long shot, so she kept her mouth firmly shut about it all.

“but he _liked_ you,” dorcas had whined, staring up at the ceiling, limbs starfished on the bed. “or have you forgotten that whole mess of an incident fifth year?” 

lily sat in a corner of space not occupied by her best friend, fiddling with a quill. “he asked me out once, and only once.” 

“and?” 

“maybe it was just a laugh? or a passing fancy?” 

“merlin, lily,” groaned dorcas, reaching up to smack at lily’s leg. “take a _chance_ , dammit. think of the children.” 

“what children?” 

“yours, should you have them. they’d be fit as fuck with both your genes.” 

“dorcas!” 

dorcas turned her head to grin lazily at lily, eyes twinkling. “you can’t deny you’ve at least thought about it.” 

lily pursed her lips, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers, and sighed. “okay, i’ve _maybe_ thought about it. not the children specifically but the, erm—”

“babymaking.” 

“no, doe.” 

“fucking?” 

“ _merlin_.” 

“i have it on good authority that he’s very good in bed.” 

“sylvia yaxley is not a good authority, historically speaking,” lily said and dorcas had rolled her eyes. 

“i’m not talking about bloody _sylvia yaxley._ i’m not an amateur, lily. i was referring to lucy lowell, actually, who was caught snogging him at the new year’s eve party last year. she rated him a solid eight point six.” 

“lucy?! the seeker for ravenclaw?” 

“the very one.” dorcas sniggered. “sounds like she found what she was seeking after all. hey!” she cried when lily smacked her with a pillow. 

“if he’s snogging other people, he probably isn’t fancying me.” 

“you never know until you go for it,” she sang, blocking the pillow swinging at her with an arm. “it’s just a suggestion. if it all goes sideways, you never have to speak to him again.” 

“he’s my co-head,” lily muttered and ignored dorcas’ waggling eyebrows. “i’ll have to work with him all the time.” 

“a perfect excuse for a budding romance.” 

“or death by pining,” lily grumbled, wincing when dorcas pinched her knee. 

“if you think that boy wouldn’t drop everything and kiss the fuck out of you if you gave him the chance, then you are a dolt. any wizard at hogwarts would probably do the same. repressed fuckers, the lot of them.” 

“doe.” 

she flashed a grin at lily, rolling off the bed onto the floor. “c’mon, we’ve got shit to do.” 

“like what?” lily asked but got up too, endured dorcas patting at her hair and straightening her clothes. 

“scoping out the common room for a certain mr james potter, esquire.” 

“doe--” lily had started but dorcas didn’t let her argue, just led her down the stairs and practically pushed her into james’ lap. 

 

it took a few weeks but they crept closer to each other, two planets on a collision course for each other than nothing could stop. they danced around, caught in each other’s gravity, until that halloween night. 

they had sealed their fate then, when james had cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. it was a supernova and they were at the centre of it all. 

//

she washes her dishes by hand. the water’s bordering on scalding but she lets it flow over her hands, swallowing the pain down as she circles a rag over glasses and plates. it could be done with magic, a flick and she’s finished, but her hands had been fidgety and anxious and in need of something to do. so she washed, pressing her stomach against the counter and letting her mind wander. 

rinse. soap. rinse. set aside. 

rinse. soap. rinse. set aside. 

james has been missing for a month, maybe more. she lost count sometime around the first week. it still hurts to breathe sometimes. 

rinse.

she’s started to brew a potion that takes away your dreams. she uses them on the days her nightmares are so bad, she shakes for hours. they’ve gotten worse, her nightmares. she vomits every morning still. 

soap.

dumbledore had visited, asked her if she needed anything. she had shaken her head and babbled something about continuing to help. he looked at her over the top of his glasses, pushed down to his nose, and somehow, she knew he knew. 

rinse. 

she couldn’t do it. she couldn’t swallow down the potion that would unmake her as a mother. not when james was gone and she was by herself and the baby inside her was already too dear to part with. 

set aside. 

 

she washes until there is nothing left in her hands, nothing left in her mind any more. 

it’s too cold to be out by the cliff’s edge, turning her face from the sea spray, but she can’t stop herself from going. there’s something too enticing about the way the waves churn, something that calls to her bones.

she stands and watches and shakes in the wind that shrieks through her, mesmerised by the view. this time, she doesn’t dangle her legs over the edge but curls a hand protectively over her front, just in case. 

“lily!” someone screeches and she turns to find sirius running at her, full tilt, with remus and pete just behind. “lily, come here!” 

she picks up her feet until she’s running too, racing to meet sirius halfway because she can read it in his body, something has gone _wrong_ and it’s urgent. 

“what is it, what is it?” she pants, skidding to a stop in front of him. he doesn’t answer right away, just snakes out a hand to clamp on her arm and tosses a familiar cloak over her head. “sirius, what--” 

“they found him,” sirius says and the whole world stops. 

“what?” 

“james,” he says and apparates them both out of there. they land in london, slamming into the ground with a force that takes lily’s breath away; she presses her free hand to her belly and prays everything is okay. 

sirius doesn’t let go of her arm after they apparate, not even when remus and peter pop in behind them, not even when he starts near-running. she stumbles along behind him, mind racing with scenario after scenario, but not able to ask. 

he stops abruptly and she slams into the back of him, unable to slow herself down, but he doesn’t react besides a grunt. 

“would someone tell me what’s going _on?_ ” she half-growls but none of the boys answer. remus adjusts the cloak so it’s hanging properly over her and nods at sirius.

“follow him and be quiet.” 

“why?” 

remus puts a finger to his lips and nudges her to follow sirius through the window pane of the abandoned shop. 

she recognizes st. mungo’s immediately; she’s never been but she knows a hospital when she sees it. there are people all around in various states of distress but sirius pays them no mind, marches down the hallway and weaves until he finds what he’s looking for. 

terror’s crawling up her throat, the bitter taste spreading through her mouth, but there’s a cautious sort of hope there too, one she doesn’t know if she should cultivate. 

the door is discreet, nondescript, but sirius pushes it open without hesitating. it’s quiet inside, the air almost dead, and lily was about to demand answers when she catches sight of the bed. 

“james,” she breathes, bolting towards the prone figure lying there and throwing the cloak off her. “oh my god, _james._ ” 

she dimly registers her knees slamming into the ground she she doesn’t care, doesn’t care because she’s touching him again, pressing her fingers into his warm skin, brushing her lips over the bridge of his nose and his forehead and his cheek and his mouth, feeling his chest rise and fall ever so slightly. 

she’s crying but she doesn’t care. he’s pale and bruised, cuts dancing over his skin like spiderwebs, but he’s _there_ and he’s _whole_ and _alive._

when she finally looks up, the boys are on the other side of the bed. none are crying but they all look _happysadrelievedscared_ in a familiar way that makes her blood turn to ice. 

“what happened to him,” she asks, low, and none of them make eye contact. “please, i need to know.” 

“i don’t… i don’t think you should hear this,” remus says when the silence gets too uncomfortable to bear. “it’s not--” he goes mute, face grey, and shakes his head. peter won’t look up, just stares down at his friend and looks faintly like he’s going to be sick. she fixes her eyes on sirius. 

“sirius. tell me. tell me now what happened to him.” 

sirius’ jaw works for a moment. “death eaters.” 

“obviously.” 

he lets out a long breath through his nose, harsh and unsteady. “they tortured him. don’t know the extent of it but it was a lot. cruciatus, for one. some physical probably. they think he was starved because he’s lost a lot of weight but they’re still doing tests.”

“oh my god.” 

“nothing on his body is broken beyond repair but we don’t know what’s going on with his head. he could be fine, he could not be.” 

lily hides her face in his sheets for a moment, fingers tangled with james’ permanently for the time being. it’s a lot to take in, even as sterilized as sirius told it, and she wonders if she’ll be sick as well. god, james. _her_ james, tortured for so long. 

she was going to kill every one of them. 

“how’d he get out?” she asks, lifting her head so they can hear her. remus answers this time, in a voice absent of any real emotion. 

“they left his wand out, stupidly. he managed to grab it and stun someone, apparated away from the fucking warehouse they were keeping him in and landed on our doorstep. we took him here straightaway.” 

“ _fuck,_ ” she says on an exhale, brushing hair away from james’ forehead. his eyes dart under their lids when she touches him but he doesn’t wake, doesn’t move any other way. “how long is he like this?” 

“they gave him a strong potion for the time being. just to give him time to heal. he should wake up tomorrow,” remus tells her and she nods. 

“what about… what about cardaroc?” 

“dead,” sirius says roughly, looking at james. “he’s fucking dead.” 

something shifts in her chest and she nods, clutching james’ hand tighter. it could’ve been cardaroc in this bed, could’ve been james in the ground, but it’s not and james is here and she’s so relieved she could cry.

so she does, big tears that slide down her face and onto the edge of the bed, taking in shuddering breaths that slice down her chest like knives, knees starting to ache from their position on the floor. 

she was so done with crying, but that was before. now it feels like a grieving and a cleansing and sigh all at once. 

 

when they tell her to leave, she refuses, staring down the healer with a glare that could cut glass. he yells and swears but she curls her body around james’ in the bed and refuses to be moved, refuses to let herself be taken away. 

finally, they give in, sending her dirty looks whenever they pass by the door, but she can’t care at all. 

the boys get shooed out and sirius looks like he’s about to pitch a fit, but remus quietly says something to him and he goes, with a face like thunder but he goes. 

“happy christmas,” remus tells her as they head out the door and she realises with a start that it’s christmas eve. she hadn’t known, hadn’t kept track of the days. there wasn’t any point to it. 

she lays in bed with james, stroking his hair with one hand and her belly with the other, silently crying because they’re together as a family for the first time. 

 

it takes him a day and a half to stir. she watches him until she falls asleep, startles awake when he jostles her in the night, sits and counts the faint freckles on his cheeks as she waits for movement. 

the healer said it’s possible he could never wake again, like samuel didn’t wake up. it’s possible and it terrifies her; she’s nearly bit a hole through her lip when his brows knit together and his eyes flutter open. 

she holds her breath as to not scare him, lets him look around the room until he finds her. she can tell the exact moment he recognizes her face because he freezes, hand halfway in the air. fear dawns on him and he makes to sit up, frantically shoving at her. 

“go away, why are you here, go away, go away, go _away,_ ” he nearly shouts, pushing at any part of her he can reach, and she’s too frozen in place to react. “they’ll kill you, oh god, they’ll kill you, _go away._ ” 

one of his shoves tips her over and she topples over the side of the bed, landing hard on the ground. she’s too dazed to pick herself up, so she just lays there and watches him scramble off the bed towards the door. 

she’s pushing herself up onto her elbows when healers burst in, hands raised in a nonthreatening way, and walking towards him. 

he stops in his tracks and looks back at her. she can’t read his face before he turns back towards the healers, taking a step to the side so he’s blocking her view of them. 

“who are you?” he asks, quiet, and she knows that voice, can hear the anger controlled in it. 

“we’re healers, mr potter,” the man at the front says. he snorts. 

“this is some sick game for you to be playing.” 

“we’re not playing any games. we’re just trying to heal you.” 

there’s a muscle jumping in his jaw and lily can see the tenseness in his shoulders from here; he’s ready to fight and doesn’t give a fuck. 

“james,” she calls from her spot on the ground and he stiffens. “james, you’re at st mungo’s. you’re not there, you’re safe.” 

it seems like he’s holding his breath, trying to puzzle everything out. he turns his head back towards her without letting the healers out of his sight.

“safe?” 

“safe,” she confirms.

all the adrenaline seems to go out of his body at once. he sags, tilting towards the ground alarmingly quickly, but he’s caught just before he hits the ground. the healer sits him down on the bed while another one, a girl this time, reaches down to help lily up. 

“are you okay, miss?” 

“i’m fine,” she mumbles. there’s an ache in her tailbone but nothing serious, nothing that warrants being mentioned. “what’s happening with him?” 

the lady looks at him and shrugs. “they’ll assess him next, once he’s got his energy back. it’s not unusual for people with his degree of trauma to act like that.” 

“james isn’t violent,” she says. 

“maybe not, but he’s had violence done to him. it changes you, you know.”

lily hums her agreement even as her heart twists in her chest, keeps one eye on her boyfriend as he’s tucked back underneath the sheets, docile. 

 

“i’m sorry,” he says later, when they’ve been by themselves for a long while. she’s taken up residence in the chair by the window instead of on the bed, given him space. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“you didn’t,” she answers around the lump in her throat. she’s certain her voice is shaking. “i swear, you didn’t.” 

“i didn’t mean to push you to the floor.” 

she exhales, tugging on a lock of hair, and tucks one foot onto the chair seat with her, leans against her knee. “james. you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” 

he looks like he wants to argue but decides against it, tips his head so he’s looking at her properly. “i forgot how beautiful you are.” 

she hides her face behind her knee, pressing her nose against the fabric of her trousers. “james.” 

“i didn’t think i would ever see you again.” 

“i didn’t think i would ever see you again, either.” 

“you’re so far away,” he says quietly and it’s almost too faint for her to hear. “come closer.”

the words catch in her chest like fishhooks, tugging her off the chair and to the bed. she kneels beside him so their faces are level. he reaches up a hand and presses the pads of his fingers ever so lightly against her cheek. 

“god, lily,” he murmurs, dazed, and it breaks something inside of her. he catches the tear that snakes down her cheek, stroking away the trail it leaves behind. she can’t help the crying; everything is still too raw and new for her to lock away. 

he runs his fingers down her face and traces over her lips, carefully like she might break, and it makes her head spin. catching his wrist, she presses kisses to his fingers. 

“you scared me so fucking much,” she whispers. 

“i’m sorry.” 

“but it doesn’t matter because you came back.” her voice cracks on the last word and pain shutters across his face. she tries again. “you came _back_.” 

he drops his hand from her face and curls it into her hair instead, his lips crashing down on hers in a heartbeat. she lets out a muffled noise against his mouth, rising up from her knees to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as he can go. 

the kiss tastes like salt and hurt and everything she didn’t let herself hope for while he was gone, but he’s pressed against her front, burning hot, and she can’t care about anything else. there’s no room for anything else, it’s just _jamesjamesjames_ crowding into every fibre of her being until she’s lost in him. 

 

they take him home as soon as the healers let him up. st mungo’s is protected but it’s still not safe for a muggleborn these days; lily is smuggled out underneath the cloak until they can apparate back to the welsh cottage. 

“home sweet home,” james mutters as they help him into the front room. it’s dark and drafty, as always, but it seems abandoned somehow. she had dropped everything to get to him. there are blankets strewn across the floor and the mixing bowl kicked under her bed, but she can’t quite care. they straighten themselves with a wave of her wand. 

james is leaning against remus, his face tight with some emotion lily can’t quite figure out. there’d been a unsaid acceptance between them two, james hadn’t questioned why remus was there and remus hadn’t mentioned the dark months when they’d been fighting. 

she watches remus say something to him, too low for her to hear, and it makes the shadow of a smile flit across his mouth. something in her wonders if james had been as angry, as sirius had been, or if it was mostly sirius dramatics. 

sirius and remus settle him down onto the sofa and his eyes close against the pain. magic can fix a lot but dark magic is hard to fix completely, he had two broken ribs and a sprained wrist that ached still, despite all the healers’ work. she surges forward when the boys lean away, desperate to wipe the ache that’s lined on his features, and tucks a blanket around him, flutters her hands over his hair, swallows down the sob that’s stuck in her throat. 

he presses a kiss to her wrist and it shocks up her arm, bringing a blush across her cheeks. he doesn’t notice, too busy answering a question of peter’s, and she flees into the kitchen to breathe. 

sirius is there, sitting on the countertop and banging his heels against the cupboards, a bottle of firewhiskey wedged between his thighs. 

“escaping as well?” 

she nods, leaning over to run her hands under the tap. sirius rummages around in his pockets until he comes up with a ciggy, lights it without asking her permission, and sucks on the end. he offers it to her when she looks at him and she takes it after a moment’s hesitation, letting the smoke fill her mouth and spilling it into the air. 

sirius watches with a cocked eyebrow, chuckling when she hands back the ciggy. “impressive, evans. didn’t know you smoked.” 

she snorts, running her tongue over her teeth. you don’t grow up in cokeworth and not smoke, not on the side of town she grew up in. 

sirius yanks the bottle free and chases down the next drag with a drink. he offers her the firewhiskey too, but the thought makes her stomach clench. she shakes her head and he shrugs, mouth shiny from the wet. 

“i thought he was dead,” he says and stops. she keeps quiet and he keeps going after a moment, not looking at her. “resigned myself to it, much as i hate to admit that, but i did. i don’t know what that makes me, a coward or whatever. he was _dead_ and i’m fucking overjoyed he’s not but—” he snaps his mouth closed, grinding his teeth. he’s frustrated, choking on words that won’t come out. she takes the nearly-out cigarette from his hands and brings it to her lips. 

“i know what you mean. i had so many nightmares when he—- he was—“ she swallows, tastes the acrid smoke on her tongue, and continues. “i feel like he’s going to disappear, that it’s not really him out on my sofa, that i’m going to wake up and it’s all another fucking nightmare.”

her hands shake so much, she drops the ciggy onto the floor. she stares down, contemplating putting it out with her bare toes, but sirius jumps down before she can. he grinds it under his heel, setting the bottle back onto the counter. 

“it hurts to hope. it fucking _burns_ to have any hope, doesn’t it?”

she nods and he lifts a hand to settle on her shoulder, ground her before the fear threatens to drown her again. 

“god, this is so pathetic,” she says around a sob. “he’s safe and i’m crying over it. i don’t even know where we are anymore, how we stand. it’s _pathetic_.”

“it’s fucked up,” sirius agrees. “s’why i’m drinking.”

she scrubs the back of her wrist over her face, trying to rub away the tears that are threatening to fall. merlin, what she would give for a drink right now. she thinks about it, thinks about grabbing the half-empty bottle next to sirius and swallowing it down until it blurred everything, blurred the pain especially, but. 

but. 

someone clears his throat and she looks over to see james in the door, leaned against the post and watching the two of them. sirius’ hand slides off lily’s shoulder and makes for the firewhiskey. he lifts it in a toast. 

“cheers, mate,” he says, flat, and tips his head back. lily and james both watch him swallow, watch the lines of his neck move as he drinks, and tense as they bring his head forward again. without another word, he brushes past lily, brushes past james, and goes out the front door. 

james looks at lily and there’s too many questions for her to answer, too much emotion for her to hold. 

“welcome back,” she whispers. 

“thank you.” 

“you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.” 

he chews on his lip, pressing a hand to his chest where the two broken ribs must be. she wonders if that’s his sprained hand. “what?” 

“i know you can’t stand it here.” she looks him dead in the eye and tries her hardest to keep her face neutral. “i don’t mind if you… you should go where you feel the most at home.”

he doesn’t answer, glancing over her shoulder and out the window, frowning. “why is sirius angry at me?” 

“he’s not,” she says because she doesn’t know how to explain that sirius is angry because james is not dead when they thought he was dead, because sirius didn’t hold on to hope hard enough, because sirius has spent weeks and weeks going over everything he could’ve done differently and relief feels a lot like pain when you’re not used to relief. 

james lets out a breath, long and low, and she notices how much of his weight he’s leaning against the wall and how white his face is. 

“you shouldn’t be standing,” she tells him, hands going out to shoo him back to the sofa. “it’s too early.” 

he just grunts and lets her help him, closing his eyes when he’s finally settled. all the fight goes out of him and he goes limp, breath deepening as he falls asleep. she stares at him for a long time, hands bunched in her jumper, before turning away. 

 

he stays. it surprises her a bit because he always left as soon as he could, made his visits as short as he could. she expected him to apparate with the boys. 

instead, they transform the sofa into a huge bed for one night, one that takes up most of her tiny living room, and sleep on it together. remus curls up in a corner, peter next to him, and james firmly in the middle. lily curves her body around the curve of james’ back, puts enough space between them so he can move without hurting but close enough that she can feel the heat that pours off of him. 

she’s the first to wake in the morning, breath hitching and morning sickness kicking and tears drying on her face, and finds padfoot at the bottom of the bed, nose brushing against james’ calf. 

they didn’t keep her dreams away but they make it more bearable being awake. 

 

she’s not sure why she doesn’t tell him. she hasn’t told anyone, prefers to keep the secret between her and the baby. it seems like too fragile of a thing to speak out loud to people, like as soon as she says that she’s pregnant, she’ll be inviting trouble. there’s already enough trouble piled on her head already. 

she wears baggier jumpers, charms her trousers a half-size bigger. she’s not showing so much but it’s better to be safe than sorry, to wrap herself in layers so no one can ever guess. 

 

james heals slowly, sleeping more often than not during the day. he sets up camp on the sofa because he refused to take the bedroom upstairs. she didn’t offer to share it but he doesn’t sneak in either, spends his nights a full floor away. 

they’re dancing around each other, dancing around the subject. it drives her batty but she doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to break the ice. 

the last time they talked it ended in angry sex and a baby and weeks’ worth of avoidance. she’s not too keen to go through that again. she’s not sure she _could_ go through it again. 

 

it’s mid-morning when he finds her. the sun’s rising through the window, throwing weak light over her room. she’d been crying before she realized she was crying, and then the tears wouldn’t stop. 

god, she’s so tired of crying. 

she curls up in the middle of the bed and draws the duvet over her head, wraps her arms around her middle and tries to make herself be quiet. it only makes it worse. 

“lily?” he asks once, far away, and then again more urgently. “lily, what’s wrong?” she clutches the duvet tighter and draws her knees in closer. he sounds so frantic and it makes her cry harder, choking on her spit and hair sticking to her face. the bed sinks under his weight and she can feel him hovering, worrying. he doesn’t touch her. 

her legs ache and her head aches and her heart aches so badly it radiates down her torso, spreading white hot over her skin. she’s cried herself sick, scrambling for the bowl under the bed and leaning past james to vomit over the edge.

“oh my god, lily. oh my _god,_ i’m finding someone right away--” he says loudly, horrified. she spits, pushing her hair away from her sweaty cheeks. 

“no, don’t,” she protests, albeit weakly. “i’ll be fine.”

“this is not bloody _fine,_ ” he spits out and it would shock her if she wasn’t preoccupied with trying to calm herself down. 

“just give me a minute,” she says, hiccoughing with the aftershocks of everything. he sits next to her, stiff, as she waits for the tremors to dissipate. when her legs don’t feel shaky anymore, she stands up and weaves towards the bathroom, turning on the tap to splash water on her face. 

he follows her to and watches as she fumbles for a towel, pats it at her face. there’s a worried furrow between his eyebrows. 

“what happened to you?” he demands and there’s a worried edge to his voice. 

“ _you_ happened,” she mutters and he recoils back, hitting the wall. she can see his reflection in the mirror. 

“i don’t understand,” he says carefully. “what did i do?” 

she whirls around on him, suddenly furious. “what did you _do?_ where do i even _begin?_ with the being kidnapped? what about that time you fucked me and then left and i didn’t see you for weeks? what about all the arguments we’ve had over the past year? does any of that ring a bell?”

“so you’re angry,” he says and he backs away from her as she steps towards him, pushing back into the tiny corridor. “i’ll just-- leave?” 

“no,” she bites out and he stops, confused. “you’re not allowed to _leave._ ” 

“if what i’ve done makes you so angry, you’ve cried yourself sick, then i don’t see why i shoul stay.” 

she looks at him for a long minute. “you think… that’s not why i was crying,” she says blankly. something in his actions makes her stop, makes her think he’ll take whatever she says next the wrong way. 

she cried because she missed him, and because she had woken up half-convinced that it was all another one of her bloody nightmares. 

“then what was it? what made you cry so hard you could barely breathe?”

“s’nothing,” she mutters. 

“don’t lie to me. because that was not _nothing_ , and if it was because of me then i need to know.” 

“i do that sometimes, alright? i’m like a leaky faucet, can’t fucking stop crying.” 

“what?” 

“can’t stop crying, can’t sleep, can’t bloody do anything right now.” 

“since when?” 

she chews on a fingernail, staring at the print of his shirt at eye level. “since you disappeared, i guess.” 

the words hit him like a blow and he sucks in a breath. “that long?”

the words makes her angry again, sparks a fire in her she didn’t know she still had. it’s a dull, low anger, but it smolders through her. she glares at the button that’s roughly level with her nose. 

“that’s _long?_ i’ve been a fucking _mess_ since i found out you were missing, james. do you know what happened when sirius told me? i fainted. he got the words out and it was like my legs were swept under me, and i was unconscious. i don’t think i’ve slept for three hours straight in _months_ because every time i close my eyes, i see all the things they could’ve been doing to you. but yes, that’s fucking _long_.”

she makes to push past him but he snags her elbow as she walks by, swings her around to face him. 

“i didn’t mean it like that.” 

“then what did you mean?” 

he stares at her, mouth opening and closing uselessly as that slow anger burns through her. “i can’t-- i don’t--”

she wipes her nose on her sleeve, sniffs. “do you really think i care that little about you?” 

“I don’t know what to think,” he says after too long and it shocks her like cold water. “i don’t know.” 

she works her jaw, burning a hole in his cheek with her glare. 

“maybe you should figure it out.” 

 

he brings her tea later, when the shadows have slid halfway down her wall and her eyes are itchy from the dryness. it’s a peace offering and she accepts it as such, leaning against the headboard to drink. he stands by the dresser and taps his fingers on the top, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

“everything is so muddled in my brain,” he says softly. there’s a weird tension in the air and she holds her breath so she doesn’t trip it, doesn’t make him clam up. “it was bad before, i was so angry and did so much dumb shit because of it. angry at you, at dumbledore, and the world, but i took it out on you and let myself be reckless and it was stupid, so fucking stupid. so my mind was a mess before, guilt and shame and rage all crashing together, but then i got caught. 

“i wasn’t even supposed to be out that night, but cardaroc’s partner had bailed and i was so-- i was so ready to _fight_ that i jumped at the chance to throw myself into anything. they were waiting for us. i’m not sure how they knew, but they were there. it was sheer luck that we were both _purebloods_ because they didn’t kill us on site, took us away. i don’t know where cardaroc went after that. i never saw him again. 

“there was so much for him to feed on. you-know-who, i mean, and my brain-- fuck. my brain was like a playground for all the shit he could use against me. i kept seeing you and i would--” he cuts himself off and drags in a ragged breath, his face going pale and fixing his eyes on a spot on the carpet. 

“i’d take the cruciatus any day over what they kept making me see. i couldn’t tell if it was real or a lie, can’t remember now even if i said all those horrible things to you, did all those horrible things. can’t tell if it’s a memory or just a parting gift from the dark lord.” his voice takes on a sardonic twist at the end and he swallows hard, still not looking at her. 

she’s still frozen against the headboard, clutching the mug like it’s her lifeline and trying to process everything she’s just heard. it takes a minute but she thaws herself out and moves, dumping the tea on the side table and coming up so she’s toe-to-toe with james. 

“hey,” she says, reaching for his hand. he flinches when she touches him but she refuses to back away. “we hurt each other a lot this past year, that’s true. but i never wanted you to leave me.” 

“didn’t you?” he says flatly and she pulls him back to her. “i hurt you, we hurt each other, i _remember_ it. and if that’s true, then what else? the rest of it could just as easily be real.” 

“it’s not,” she tells him stubbornly, hooking a hand around his neck and running her thumb over the top of his spine. “it’s not, and it never will be real. never never never. you’re a good man, james potter, a fucking good man and that is not you.” 

“you called me a coward.” 

“i was wrong. i was furious and lonely and i was wrong. you don’t have a cowardly bone in your body, not one, and you are a good man.” 

“you keep saying that.” 

“and i’ll keep saying it until you believe me,” she whispers and he kisses her once, twice, three times. it’s like soothing a burn with a salve, and relief floods through her body until it washes away all the tears, curls in her belly and settles there like a campfire. 

there’s so much that’s fucked up, they’re so fucked up, but she’s determined to fix this. 

she will fix it. 

 

she measures out the ingredients for her potions and dips them into the cauldron, mumbling under her breath. he takes to standing on the other side of the kitchen, not speaking but just watching her work. 

the first day he does it, she flushes, knocking things over and and slipping her fingers off the knife. 

“what are you doing?” she asks finally and he starts. 

“watching.” 

“why?” 

he doesn’t answer for a moment and she glances over her shoulder to find him deep in thought. 

“i like watching you work. it’s… calming.” he smiles suddenly, scratching at the scruff on his jaw. “you twist your hair when you’re thinking hard. and tap your fingers too. it’s cute.” 

“aren’t you observant,” she mumbles, inexplicably embarrassed, as she pours essence of something or other in the cauldron. it smokes a bit, splashing over the edge. “can you hand me that rag?” 

he throws it to her and she catches it, wiping down the counter before it can scald. 

“what are you making?”

“something for dumbledore. black fire potion, it’s supposed to help with the fires that keep happening. you can move through magical fire with it.” 

“handy, that is.” 

she looks at him out of the corner of her eye and he looks amused, looks almost like he used to. his cuts have mostly healed and the bruises too; his wrist is still wrapped because it twinges when it rains but his ribs are okay. his hair’s grown back where it was burned or cut off and it sticks up worse than ever, shaggy and weird lengths. he needs a cut. 

but still, there’s a deep sadness inside him, simmering under the surface. sadness and rage and everything that’s in her as well. 

she sprinkles in some crushed up leaves and sticks her nose over the steam, coughing when it singes the inside. it’s coming along well, then. doing what it’s supposed to. 

james snickers under his breath and she manages to level him with a glare.

“that’s what you’re supposed to do.” 

“mhm.” 

she rolls her eyes and covers the cauldron, carefully bringing it over to the windowsill and setting it down. “it needs to steep for a while, but it’s almost done.” 

she leans on the opposite counter and fidgets with the hem of her shirt. the awkwardness is back, one that never seemed to be between them before this year, and it makes her wish for the easiness of before. 

“stop looking at me,” she tells him, shifting uncomfortably, and he drops his eyes to her feet. there’s a tiny smirk playing on his lips and it’s an echo of who he used to be, who he could be again. he glances up at her, catches her blush, and the smirk grows bigger. 

he used to do this in school, tease her until she got all pink and embarrassed. she would smack him until he stopped, cover his eyes so he’d not be able to see how she flushed when he said things about her eyes, her smile, her wit. 

when he told her he loved her, she had practically glowed with it all the way to her toes, her skin clashing tremendously with her hair. he had chased the flush with his mouth until she breathed out that she loved him too, foreheads pressed together and wild grins on their faces. 

she presses her hands to her warm cheeks and knows, just _knows_ , that he’s thinking of the same moment then. she can tell by the way his eyes have gone all _softhard_ , the way his smirk has gentled into something more wistful. 

as she watches, the look falls off his face and is replaced with something dark and unsettled. abruptly, he shoves away from the counter and out the door, leaving a blinking lily in his wake. 

 

the next full moon they host at their house. it’s tense. there’s a fragility to the air of the cottage now. it was there before but now it’s in the open and she feels like she has to tiptoe so she doesn’t upset the delicate balance they’ve all agreed upon. 

remus lets himself in with peter at his side and padfoot trotting behind, immediately going over to lily to nose at the bottom of her skirt. she laughs and pushes his head away, scolding him when he nips at the hem and _pulls_.

“oi, shove off,” james says crossly and sirius’ mouth opens wide in a wolfy grin, looking far too pleased with himself. “if you’re going to act like a dog, why don’t you make the change permanent.” 

sirius transforms back in one fluid moment, going from shaggy dog to shaggy boy with the same smile. 

“i would but the fleas, they’re murder.” 

lily and remus snort in tandem as sirius pushes his hair back out of his face. it’s getting long, all of their hair is, and she makes a snap decision. she waves a chairs into being and sets it in the middle of the floor, fetches her good scissors from the kitchen. the boys all look at her, confused, when she brandishes them. 

“sit down, boys.” 

“what?” says sirius, taking a step back. “it’s the full moon.” 

“it won’t be dark for ages yet and you all look like you’re werewolves. no offence, remus.” 

“none taken,” he says but he eyes her with apprehension. 

“can you even cut hair, evans?” sirius asks. 

“course i can.” 

“but can you do it well?” 

she points the scissors at him, jabbing them threateningly. “for that, black, you are going first. sit.” 

he whines and wheedles but she gets him in the chair soon enough, wrapping a towel around his shoulders and snipping around his ears. 

“if you do not quit moving, i’m going to hex you,” she says when he flinches at a snip too close to his ear. “and _then_ i’m going to cut your ear off.” 

he scowls but goes still, lets her finish. it doesn’t take long; she’s not taking off too much length but just making it more presentable. she runs her hands through his hair when she’s done, satisfied. 

“you’ll do,” she declares, hitting him lightly at the top of his head. “now, was that so bad?” 

“yes,” he grumbles, sliding off the chair and setting the towel in his place. his hands jump to his hair instantly, fixing it to his liking, and then shaking it everywhere like a dog. “better.” 

“told you so. remus, you’re up.” 

remus takes his seat with much more dignity than sirius did but he’s still scowling when she starts. she makes him look neat and tidy, knows he’ll appreciate it more than the rest of them, and he begrudgingly gives her nod when she’s done. 

peter whines but james goes quietly, slumping a little so she can reach easily. she hesitates before she starts, oddly nervous. maybe she should…

“oh, no you don’t, evans,” sirius says dangerously, glowering at her from the sofa. “he needs it more than the rest of us combined. don’t wimp out on us now.” 

she rolls her eyes and cards her hands through james’ thick hair, pulling when he laughs at her. it’s soft under her fingers. 

he keeps quiet when she cuts but his hands are drumming out a restless beat on his knee. it’s too _something_ , doing this. too delicate with the others watching. she finishes as quickly as she can, brushing stray clippings off his neck with her hands. 

“thank you,” he says quietly, tipping his head backwards so he can look at her. his smile looks dopey upside down. “i needed that.” 

“anytime,” she tells him and kisses his forehead before she can stop herself. 

 

she watches remus take his potion, draining every last drop from the tumbler, and goes to bed. this is not a time for her and she has no interest in making it one; full moons are what the boys need to do together, the marauders riding again. 

she finds them in the morning caked in mud and fast asleep, tangled on the floor in a pile of limbs and hair. 

 

“james,” she says wildly, feeling so desperate at she stands at the head of the sofa. it’s the middle of the night in the middle of january and shadows stretch weirdly around her, making her shiver. “ _james_.”

he’s awake between one moment and the next, hand darting towards his wand before he pauses. 

“lily?” he squints in her direction and half sits up. “what--” 

she doesn’t let him finish his question, swings her leg over his hips so she’s sitting carefully on top of him, pitching forward to hide her face against his bare chest. his arm comes up behind her automatically, stroking lightly at her back. 

“you were dead,” she chokes out and his fingers slow. “i dreamt you were dead.” 

his heart beats under her cheek, steady and strong, and she pushes closer as if she can sink right into the sound. turning her head, she presses an open-mouthed kiss right over his heart and he shifts. 

“lily,” he mumbles, uncertain, but his hands aren’t stopping her so she keeps going, moving her head up until she meets his mouth. his eyes are wide but wary, no glasses to hide behind. “lily, should we do this?” 

she kisses him as answer, one that’s long and deep and drugging, drinking him in like she used to. his hands slide down her side to her waist, drawing hot circles against her hips with his thumbs. she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth and bites down, making his hands tighten and she remembers why that’s not such a good idea. 

she pulls his palms up instead, lets them wander under her shirt as hers trace down his chest, smooth up his neck to hook against the curve of his jaw. he pinches and it makes her hiss, makes her bite him again and rock her her hips down to meet his. 

he pulls his face away to drop his forehead to her shoulder, breathing heavily. she plays with the hair at the back of his neck, thinks about ending this, decides against it. she’s restless and hot and he’s here and willing and so much alive. 

sparks skid across her skin when he brushes his mouth across her collarbone in the faintest of kisses. she nudges his head up so she can sit up on her knees, shoving her pyjama bottoms down and off, pushing at the blanket tangled around his legs. it’s hard work because he seems intent on distracting her, rucking her top around her armpits and letting his mouth wander, but she manages. 

“lily,” he says again, freezing when he feels her hands at his waistband. “lily, i-- do you want this?” 

“do you?” she challenges and he laughs hollowly, his fingers digging into her back like hot pinpricks. 

“course i do. but you don’t have to…” 

she pulls away impatiently, shoving him back so he’s flat on the sofa, mindful of his ribs and shimmying down his legs. she takes his pants with her. 

he stops her before she can continue, tips her chin up to look at him. there’s worry playing along his features, an uncertainty that wasn’t there before. she doesn’t like it. 

“i need you to say it,” he says quietly. “i can’t-- i need to know it’s what you want.” 

“i want it,” she tells him, holding his gaze steady. “i want _you,_ james.” 

for a second, she thinks he’s not going to believe her, going to push her away onto the floor. she’s not sure if she could handle that rejection, not sure if she could pick herself up and walk away with any dignity. she tenses her muscles, gets ready to lift herself up so she can bolt for her door and hide away from the shame of it all, but he seems to catch the panic in her eyes. 

his finger brushes down the bridge of her nose and he nods, letting go. 

 

he’s not happy about her going into the city but she shouts him down, telling him about how she’s so bloody _bored_ of this cottage and how she’ll go mad if she doesn’t leave soon and how they need more milk anyway. 

“there’s perfectly good milk in mostyn,” he argued but she just wriggled her fingers at him and swept out the door. 

she should’ve listened but being so isolated was making her barmy. she needed to get out before she killed someone or did something stupid. well, more stupid than apparating all the way to cardiff to go to a shop. 

she sits in a little coffee shop and watches the world go by, muggles unbothered by the invisible war hanging over their heads. she sticks her wand in her bun and pretends she’s not a wizard for a few minutes, just an ordinary person living an ordinary life. 

reality cracks her across the face in a breath, shattering the glass front of the cafe and sending fire leaping long the walls. the death eaters stand like beacons in the midst of chaos, sending flashes of light darting at the muggles running away. 

she sends out a patronus to dumbledore, and stands her ground, yelling _stupefy_ at the death eater closest to her. it doesn’t hit him properly, knocks him askew and she catches sight of his face. 

“fancy meeting you here, snivellus,” she snarls and ducks when fury clouds onto his face and he sends a jinx her way. it hits a muggle behind her but she doesn’t let herself feel the guilt, whirls away and sends spell after spell. 

it’s chaotic, rough work. it’s her against so many others and seconds stretch out endlessly as she tries to fend off the worst of it. 

there’s a pop and frank appears beside her, throwing up a shield charm almost before he’s fully materialized. mad-eye’s on the other side, shouting, and there’s dorcas’ quick wandwork flashing a ways away. 

she’s rusty; it’s been a while since she was in a proper fight, but the order closes rank around her, filling in where she does not cover. 

soon, it’s them on the offence, them pressing the death eaters back. the masked wizards fall to the ground as spells hit them, or apparate away before they can land. 

they are _winning_ and it feels good, as small as a victory it is. 

and then, just like before, all the air is sucked out of her lungs when voldemort’s pale figure materializes out of the smoke. 

her spells falter for a second, all of them pause as the tide turns against them. 

voldemort is as intimidating as ever, wand held aloft as he starts for her. she shouts a disarming spell and it does not faze him, doesn’t stop him in the slightest, and she stumbles when frank shoves her behind him. 

there’s a flash of white light and dumbledore bursts in and all the air floods her lungs. 

“go, lily,” frank shouts. “we have this covered.”

go, lily. it’s not safe here, lily. they’re targeting you, lily. 

but— there are muggles crowded against the oppose wall of the demolished cafe, huddling and cringing and so defenceless. she grits her teeth and crouches low, skittering across the floor until she’s next to them. 

“move,” she says, as kindly as she can. the people shuffle out of the way, enough for her to send a _reducto_ at the wall. “listen to me,” she insists and they all pause to look at her. “you run. you run and don’t stop until you are far away and you don’t come back for a long time, okay?”

they all nod and bolt through the newly-formed hole, scattering like dandelion seeds. six feet away, dumbledore and voldemort are duelling, and it feels more like the clashing of two elements--fire and water, earth and sky-- than wizards fighting. 

someone shouts and she moves on instinct, ducking down as a spell explodes over her head like a star. she fires a jinx in the same direction, prays it doesn’t hit one of her friends, and turns on her heel to apparate. 

she lands in wales and she is not alone. someone has caught her sleeve and apparated along with her, dragging themselves to her safety, her cottage. 

“ _reducto_ ,” she shouts, frantic, and the figure is blasted away a few steps. it’s bellatrix and she soon catches her breath, pulling herself upright to sneer at lily. 

“if it isn’t the little mudblood whore,” bellatrix spits, her wand pointed directly at lily’s heart. lily doesn’t bother answering, sends off another curse and darts left before bellatrix can counter. they fight like that, desperate spells, in circles for a few precious seconds, sneering and hair flying and getting dangerously closer. 

bellatrix screams something and lily manages to deflect the spell. but she doesn not deflect it enough; it hits her abdomen instead of her heart, sending icy-hot tendrils of magic reaching into her belly, curling around. 

“oh my god,” lily says dazedly. “the baby.”

she chokes out some defensive spell that slows bellatrix, something that lets her have a second to get away, and _runs,_ fighting against the february sludge to the cottage sitting in the distance. 

bellatrix cackles and gives chase, spells nipping at lily’s heels, and lily sends one over her shoulder. she misses a hole in the ground and goes sprawling, landing on her front, _hard._ she gets up and continues on, heart beating a frantic rhythm in her throat. 

“ _crucio,_ ” bellatrix screams and the curse hits lily in the back, arches her backwards and then whips her forward as pain shakes through her body. bellatrix is laughing, playing with her food, and lily chokes back a sob when she realises that she wasn’t fast enough to save herself, save _them_. 

the pain crystallizes, dragging into her bones like shards of broken glass, and it’s then that she screams, then that the pain becomes too unbearable to keep silent, and bellatrix is still laughing. 

“lily,” someone shouts and she squints through her hazy eyes to see james sprinting towards her, wand is his hand. he yells again and the pain lifts, leaving behind a heavy ache that makes her curl inward, making herself as small as she can be. she wraps her arms around her middle and holds herself together, mind lost in incoherent thought. 

bellatrix hisses and lily hears the pop of apparation before there are hands on her, gentle ones, touching her back and her her head. they’re shaking. 

james is shouting as he tugs at her arms to let herself go. she can’t understand what he’s saying, it’s too loud and she’s hurting too much, and there’s only one thing that matters now, one thing she can remember--

“james,” she says, unfolding and reaching towards him. “james, the baby.” 

his brows knit together. “what?” 

“the baby, she hurt the baby,” lily says before that heavy ache hooks into her mind and drags her unconscious. 

//

she was attacked for the first time in seventh year. it had been late, and she’d been walking back from doing something or other by herself, and the stunning spell had hit her in the back. it was strong enough to make her stumble. 

“mudblood filth,” mulciber growled behind her and she’d pivoted around, still breathing hard from the stun. he’d continued, unfazed by her wand going up, with hatred radiating out of his face. “potter may be a blood traitor, but he’s still a pureblood who has no right to messing around with the likes of dirty whores like you. or will you spread your legs for every wizard wh--” 

“fifty points from slytherin,” she said calmly, praying her voice didn’t shake, “for attacking a student.” 

his face turned red but he had laughed, the sound slithering across her skin like oil. “you think i fucking care about house points? take as many as you want, mudblood, it doesn’t fucking matter.” 

“it’s a wonder you think you’re so superior when all you do is hex unsuspecting girls in corridors. tell me, mulciber, is that bravery to you?” 

he had levelled another spell at her but she’d recovered enough to fend it off, waving it away so it deflected harmlessly to her side. she countered with a disarming spell, _levicorpus-_ ed him so he was dangling from the ceiling by an ankle. he had turned red, from anger and blood, and she kept well out of his way so he couldn’t strangle her. 

“don’t _ever_ assume your cowardice for courage. you are not a hero in this story and you will never be.” she paused, lets him come crashing down on his head, and leaned in ever so slightly. “if you ever, _ever_ touch me again, i will make you regret it until the day you die, mulciber. do not underestimate me again.” 

she left him groaning on the castle floor, his wand out of reach and her back straight. she kept her composure until she was out of sight, breaking into a run and sprinting all the way back to the common room.

 

james had exploded when she told him of the incident, a few days later. she had to grab his arm to keep him from stalking away and strangling mulciber himself; the lines in his neck stood out and his face was red with fury. 

“he did _what_ to you,” he yelled, shaking, and lily placed a placating hand on his chest. “he said-- fucking hell, i’m going to eviscerate him.” 

he made to leave again but she had pushed back, given him a look. “i didn’t tell you so you could avenge me, james.” 

“then why--” 

“because you’re my boyfriend and i don’t want to keep secrets. i took care of it, alright, and he’ll not cross me again.” 

it took a minute but james finally calmed down, taking deep breaths and dissipating his anger until he could talk normally. she removed her hand, cautious, and raised an eyebrow. 

“better?” 

he nodded once, jerky, and fisted a hand in his hair. “for now.” 

she made a face to try and make him laugh; it worked, but only just, and he reached a hand out to smooth her hair behind her ear. 

“you know i don’t care about the blood purity, right? it’s nothing but garbage and i don’t _care_ who your parents are.” 

“i know.” 

“for him to call you that--” he shook his head and growled in frustration, fingers curling as if he was imagining strangling mulciber right then and there. “you’ve got to tell dumbledore.” 

“i will.” 

“as soon as possible, lily. mulciber can’t be roaming the halls after this, after what he did to mary. it’s a miracle he’s not been expelled already, merlin knows i would’ve chucked him out the second i heard he was messing with you-know-who.” 

“i know, james. but dumbledore has his reasons, doesn’t he?” 

james didn’t answer, just sighed, allowing lily to tug him close for a kiss. 

 

he hadn’t brought up the matter again but she hadn’t been surprised when she heard mulciber was stuck in the hospital wing for a while after being hexed by an unknown attacker in the hallway.

 

she didn’t tell james about the attacks after that, little ones that bordered on the edge of mean-spirited and harmful, from the pureblood population. she dealt with them as she could and swallowed down the indignity of it all. 

it had worked until they had got stronger, more deliberate, more hurtful. even then, she didn’t tell james until a particularly nasty spell sent by rosier hit her the wrong way and she collapsed in the great hall. 

// 

she blinks awake and finds herself in familiar surroundings, staring up at the white ceiling, swathed in midnight shadows. for a second, she wonders if she’s seventeen, wonders what rosier did to make her faint like that. 

someone shifts beside her and the memories come flooding back; she’s twenty two, not seventeen, and she has been out of hogwarts for a long time. 

she’s groggy with sleep but she turns her head to find james there, slumped over her bed with his face in her sheets, motionless. slowly, she touches his cheek and he startles awake to peer at her in the dimness. 

“james,” she says, the name thick in her mouth, and his whole face sags in relief. wordlessly, he clambers up from the chair he’d been crammed in and climbs into bed with her, fitting himself around her body and burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

she strokes through the grown-out haircut she needs to clip again in slow, methodological movements, keeping silent as her neck grows damp. she presses on her belly with her other hand, wondering, right below where his arms are locked around her middle. 

“you scared me, evans,” he mumbles after a while. “scared the hell out of me.” 

she presses a kiss to the top of his head and hums something soothing until they both drift back asleep until morning.

 

“why am i in the hospital wing?” 

“because hogwarts is the safest place in the world,” james answers. “and st mungo’s is not.” 

“i don’t feel ill,” she clarifies and his face grows dark. 

“you had an unforgiveable curse put on you, lily,” he says and his mouth twists in a way that means he is angry. “while pregnant.” 

her hands fly to her stomach. “how is…” 

james’ tone is blank, emotionless. “he’s fine. you’re very lucky, both of you.” 

“he?” she repeats, staring down at her hands with something between uncertainty and wonder “he’s a he?” 

“a boy,” he says and she knows him well enough to find the bitterness there. he catches her confused look and counters it with a pointed look. “why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” 

she pushes herself up so she’s sitting straight instead of slouching. “i have my reasons.”

a muscle works in his cheek and he looks away. “is he— is he mine?”

she gapes at him for a minute, too shocked to say anything at first. “how could you even _say_ that?”

“i was gone for a long time.”

“no, you _look_ at me. how could you even _insinuate_ that it’s not yours? how can you think that i would go and cheat you left? do you believe the shit they say? you think i’m a mudblood whore too? do you think i just fuck anyone whose blood is pure—”

“i don’t think that about you,” he says loudly, talking over her so she stops. “i could never— that’s not what i was saying.”

“then what, james potter,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “did you say?”

“i don’t know. why else would you keep this from me?”

“sorry, when was i supposed to bring it up? when you were kidnapped or when you got back from being tortured?”

“i don’t know,” he repeats, throwing his hands in the air. “how long have you known?”

she stares for a moment, contemplating lying but she caves in the end. 

“three months.”

“ _three_ months? you knew before i came back and you haven’t told me all this time?” he nearly shouts, anger gathering around him like a storm cloud gathers lightning. “what the fuck, lily?” 

she swings her legs over the side of the bed, tries to stand. her knees are shaky, though, and they buckle under her as soon as she puts weight down. james catches her before she falls even though she’s furious, sets her on the bed. 

“i was going to tell you.” 

“when? when you started showing? when you gave birth? were you actually going to tell me at all, or just drop the baby off somewhere?” 

“stop,” she says, staring fixedly at a loose thread on the comforter. she’s not sure why the idea of abandoning her baby makes her cry now but it does. she wraps her arms protectively around herself, as if she can protect him from james’ anger. “that’s not-- i was going to tell you. i just couldn’t find the words.” 

“hey, james, i’m pregnant,” he says and he’s shouting now. “is that so hard? i can’t believe you would keep something like that from me.” 

“it wasn’t malicious,” she shouts back, feeling dizzy with rage. “i wasn’t trying to hurt you, i just couldn’t say-- i couldn’t say the words, alright? i couldn’t let them out because i didn’t believe it was true and then i didn’t know how to say it and then i didn’t want to break the fragile peace in our house for the first time in _fuck_ knows how long.”

“what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“mister potter,” madame pomfrey barks, stepping out of her office with a glare hard enough to cut glass. james shrinks back just a little. “this is a hospital wing and miss evans is recovering from a very traumatic experience. either contain yourself or i will have you removed.” she gives lily a pointed look. “as for you, you are supposed to be _resting,_ not bringing down the walls with your arguments.” 

“yes, madame,” lily says meekly, all the fight leaking out of her. she slumps back against the pillow and watches james calm down, watches as his shoulders loosen and drop down, as the back of his neck gets less pink. 

but the outrage doesn’t leave his face and tiredly she wonders how many times you can fix something that keeps breaking. 

 

they can’t go back to the welsh cottage. bellatrix knows where it is know, was shown the property catching on to the tail end of lily’s apparation and they have no way of finding her to _obliviate_ the memory.

lily swallows hard when she hears; that cottage was small and dreary, but it had been her home for a long time. she had grown to love it, in a weird, weird way. 

“all our things?” she asks and moody’s eye swivels around to focus on the boys against the wall. 

“those three took care of it,” he growls and sirius gives a wave. “packed up everything important.” 

“there’s nowhere to stand, let alone live in our flat now,” grumbles sirius. “why do you have so much shit, evans?” 

she opens her mouth to throw a retort back but james gets there first. “most of it’s potion supplies for the order, shove off, padfoot.” 

lily’s eyebrows fly up but james doesn’t look at her.

“where are we going to live?” 

moody’s eye swings back to look at her, the piercing blue seemingly staring into her soul. “ask yer boyfriend,” he says, thumbing at james and walking away to confer with pomfrey. james looks unhappy with this, shifts his weight a little. 

“i have a cottage,” he mumbles finally. “a family one, i mean. it’s falling apart but we can fix it up, i suppose.” 

“a cottage?” 

“mhm.” 

“you didn’t tell me about a cottage.” 

he scowls, shoving his hands into his pockets. “seems like there’s a lot we don’t tell each other.” 

“has he told you about the manor? or the summer house in france?” sirius calls, finding it a lot funnier than either of them. james glares daggers at him. 

“thanks, sirius.” 

she had known about those; he’d taken her to the potter manor and mentioned the seaside house. mrs potter had sold off the one in france after mr potter had died; none of them needed it and the money had been good. 

she fidgets with her hair. “how much is this cottage falling apart? and where is it?” 

“godric’s hollow.” 

“england’s smallest, shittiest town,” sirius mutters and james catches him in the side with an elbow. “what? you said that yourself. remember, when euphemia dragged us down to chat with bathilda—”

“bagshot?” lily asks, her mouth dropping open. 

“yeah, she’s a neighbor. we’d stay with her because the house was unlivable. barmy woman, and her house smelled like cats all the time.” 

she feels like she's going to cry again. james won’t look at her and her home is gone, all her homes are gone. 

dorcas comes up behind her with remus in tow, wraps an arm around lily’s waist and squeezes. “darling, you’re glowing.” 

lily’s hair is thrown up in a haphazard bun, there are bruises scattered along her cheek, and she’s pale. she rolls her eyes. “i am not but i appreciate the lie.” 

“not a lie,” dorcas says with a grin, winking. “i’m glad you’re okay, though. both of you.” 

“me too.” she pauses, tipping into doe’s shoulder. “christ, i don’t want to move, especially into a falling-down shack.”

“we’ll help you fix it up. it’ll be nice, i promise,” says remus and dorcas agrees. 

“thanks,” says lily. “appreciate it.”

“oh, i almost forgot, peter snagged some new clothes for you both. pete?” 

peter hands her a bag that’s full of jumpers and a skirt. she mumbles a thanks and escapes to the lavatory in the back. none of the pieces quite work together but she doesn’t care, pulls on the warmest things she can find. she ends up in her long wool skirt and a jumper that’s far too big, the sleeves cascading past her fingertips. she rolls them up enough so she can use her hands and tucks the front into her skirt. 

james gives her an odd look when she comes out and she smoothes her hands down her front self-consciously. 

“what?” 

“that’s my jumper,” he says. 

“oh. i can change…”

he shakes his head, snags the bag from her hand. “no, it’s fine. i’ll find something else.” she fiddles with the cuff, fixes it so it’s even, and gives an anxious nod. 

remus nudges her gently. “what’s wrong?” 

“nothing.” 

“you’ve got to stop answering that when we ask. congratulations, by the way.” 

“hmm?” 

“the baby. it’s a boy, yeah?” 

her hands jump to her stomach. “oh. yeah, it’s a boy.” 

“he’s healthy? after bellatrix?” 

“pomfrey says he was unharmed, thank merlin. i thought— i thought he might’ve been hurt.” 

“he’s strong," remus says. “with parents like you, no wonder. we’ll have another gryffindor quidditch captain in no time.” 

she smiles at that. “james would cheer so loud.” 

“downright obnoxious, he’d be. we’d have to silence him to keep him from being too annoying. him and sirius.” 

james comes back out and he’s in a stretched out shirt, his jacket slung over her shoulder, and her heart contracts at the sight. “he’s going to be a great father,” she says without thinking, her smile going soft. remus nods. 

“the best.” 

 

she cries when she sees the cottage in godric’s hollow, hiding her face in dorcas’ soft sweater as the boys lift their wands. they have magic, yes, but the building is falling apart and looks more like a shack than a home. 

she’s supposed to bring a baby to that home, that collection of falling walls and a roof that’s more holes than shingles. she cries harder, curling her fingers into dorcas’ collar. 

there’s a gasp and someone rushes up. lily blinks through her tears enough to see a little old woman in house shoes and a coat, looking extremely concerned. 

“here, dearie,” she says, handing lily a handkerchief. “come in for some tea.” 

dorcas’ arms tighten around lily. “who are you?” 

“oh, of course. i’m the neighbour, bathilda bagshot. pleased to meet you.” 

“it’s okay, doe. she’s a friend of james.” 

“are you lily, then? i’ve heard so much about you.” 

lily swipes a hand over her face and tries a smile as bathilda leads them into her home. it did smell like cats, but only a little, and it’s warm. she shivers. “you’ve heard about me?” 

“mmm, james would talk about you all the time when he visited. lily evans this and lily evans that. he was besotted.” 

“stupid boy,” lily says around a sniffle and bathilda clicks her tongue, handing both girls a cup and saucer. 

“he seems to have won you over, in the end.” 

lily takes a sip to hide her grimace. the tea is weak but she doesn’t mind. it simmers down her body, calming and lovely, and lily sits back in her chair, drowsy. she can see the work being done next door and a twinge of guilt runs through her at being inside while they work. 

sirius is standing like a train conductor, directing the others as they move large chunks of the walls. slowly, things begin to take shape, falling solidly into place. james drops his arm and leans over to give sirius a high five, cheeks pink in the early spring chill and his eyes are sparkling. lily tugs her cuffed sleeves over her hands. 

he’s so distant again and she misses him, misses him more now that she lost him and found him and lost him again. she’s been so nonsensical. she had her reasons but they all seemed so flimsy in hindsight, born out of fear and stupidity. 

god, she wishes she could unravel time until that moment, take back it all. 

 

to the boys credit, they do manage to fix up the cottage nicely. it’s not as drafty as the one in wales and they’ve transfigured some furniture so it’s not barren. the walls are empty, though, and it bothers her more than it should. 

she walks down to the shop and stands there for a long while, contemplating an idea. she buys the ingredients on an impulse and bakes a cake for their first dinner in the house. she does it the muggle way, mixing it with a large wooden spoon in her mother’s bowl that someone had thoughtfully saved. 

dorcas chatters to her as she stirs, keeping her mind off the hard things. it’s helpful, like a bright spot of light in the darkness pressing at her from every angle. 

“what should i do for dinner?” lily asks and dorcas hooks her chin over lily’s shoulder to scrutinize the contents of the refrigerator. 

“shepherd’s pie,” decides dorcas and lily nods, pulling out what’s needed. she sets dorcas the task of frying the meat, the thought of it making her queasy, and peels a load of potatoes. dorcas laughs when lily runs from the room, hand clasped firmly over her mouth, and doesn’t come back until the meat is done. 

the cake is done by the time the meal is ready to be cooked, so they set it out to cool. lily’s got a plan for it and she whips up some icing before she can talk herself out the idea.

“what’re you doing?” dorcas asks and she smiles when she catches sight of the writing. “that’s cute.” 

the boys trot in after a few minutes, drawn by the smell of food. peter hands her a bunch of bright yellow flowers, bound together by a ribbon. 

“welcome home,” he says, grinning, and lily puts them in a cup in the middle of the table. it’s small, but it’s a start. 

“thanks, peter,” she tells him quietly. “that means a lot.” 

“what are you making?” sirius asks, eyeing the cake on the counter. she steps in front of it and crosses her arms.

“that’s not for you, black. not yet.” 

“just one bite?” 

“not on your life.” he makes for the cake in a half-hearted manoeuvre, laughing when she swats him on the arm. “if you’re not going to behave, i’m going to kick you out of my kitchen.” 

sirius lifts his arms in surrender and backs away, laughing, and it would all be wonderful except james isn’t laughing, isn’t really smiling, just standing in the corner with a face like stone. 

she bends to check the pie and finds it done, pulls it out onto a trivet and pulls plates down. remus helps her dish it out as dorcas shoos everyone to the table. she finds the mead from the three broomsticks that had been a gift from slughorn over christmas and pours it out into glasses and a bit into sirius’ mouth, at his request. 

“gross, padfoot,” james says, shoving him so the wine spills out of his mouth and onto the floor. sirius’ expression finally makes james laugh, makes all of them laugh, as the food is set down in front of them. 

it’s a bit crowded with the six of them, but they bump elbows and don’t mind, toasting to a roof overhead and safety for the time being. 

lily carries the cake carefully, dorcas following with extra plates, and sets it down in front of james. he looks at it for a long moment, and then back at her. 

“what is this?” 

“a cake,” she answers and james scowls, shoving away from the table and storming off. the rest of their friends are quiet, craning their necks to see what’s written there. lily watches him go, every nerve in her body ready to snap. 

she stomps after him, waving a _silencio_ charm at the door because she can read his mood, knows it will be ugly. 

“ _you’re gonna be a dad,_ lily? of all the things in the universe you choose to put on that fucking cake, you choose _you’re gonna be a dad_?” he seethes, his back to her.

“i didn’t know you were going to be so _upset_ by it.” 

he whirls around, furious, and she squares her jaw. “why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?” 

“i was trying to say sorry,” she yells back. “it was stupid but i was trying to make things right by telling you about him like i should have before, okay?” 

“that was not making things right.” he throws his arm out and points back from where they came. “that was being _stupid._ how could you think that was okay?” 

she feels so close to stamping her foot, would’ve done it if she didn't already feel like an idiot. “i was trying to make you smile. it’s been hell lately and i wanted to try and make something better, even if it was as stupid as making a cake,” she says and she’s crying again, for the fucking thousandth time, and it’s a wonder she has any tears left. 

“how can you make this better? you kept your pregnancy from me for months, lily. months. and then you pull this shit? how is that better?” 

“i don’t know, james. i don’t know.” 

“fuck-- i can’t believe-- _months,_ lily. you’ve known since _december_ and it’s end of february now.” 

“i wasn’t trying to be mean, or bitter, or hold it over you, okay? it wasn’t because i was trying to _hurt_ you, i was trying--” 

“what, lily,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “what were you trying to do?” 

“i was drowning,” she says and wipes at her eyes angrily. if only these tears would _stop_ for a moment. “i was drowning without you in so many ways and this pregnancy, this… _baby_ felt like a fucking anchor around my ankles, pulling me under. i couldn’t breathe, i couldn’t think, i could just barely keep my head afloat without thinking about what was happening.” 

he stares at her, eyes flashing. “horse shite,” he bites out and each word stings. “horse fucking shite. _drowning_ , lily? what the fuck does that mean?” 

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“well, what a good fucking job you did at that,” he snaps and something in her snaps too. she loves him so much it aches but she didn’t think love was ever supposed to hurt this much. it’s like they can’t be on the same page anymore, don’t even try being on the same page, and she feels like it’s wringing her out bit by bit. 

she’d meant what she said. she never wanted him to leave, but she wants this pain to stop, this constant bickering to end. 

“i’m tired of this. i’m so, so tired of this, of fighting with you and crying all the time. it’s fucking exhausting, and if you can’t stop, maybe…” she takes in a deep breath and fixes her eyes somewhere near james’ elbow. “maybe we should end this.” 

james looks like he’s been slapped. “end what?” 

“this,” she says, waving a tired hand between them. “us. i don’t know.” 

“lily--” 

“go. just-- go.”

wordlessly, he moves past her and out the door and she’s left staring after him once more. she’s getting really tired of looking at his back. she flops back on the bed and stays there until dorcas comes looking, forty five minutes later. 

“what happened?” 

it takes a moment for her to find the energy to respond; everything is too much and she can’t handle it anymore. 

“i think we broke up.” 

“think?” 

“i never know anything for certain around him,” lily says blankly. “i never know.” 

dorcas sits next to her and rubs circles on her back, soothing ones that put her half to sleep. “you two are the most stubborn people i know,” she says softly. “too stubborn to see that you’re too deeply in love with each other to play at anything else.” 

“i don’t know what means either.” 

“it means that both of you do stupid things and you should probably stop.” 

“he makes me cry.” 

“sometimes. but he also makes you laugh.” 

lily blinks once, twice before she responds, listening to the sound of dorcas’ hands against her jumper. james’ jumper. “i don’t know if that makes up for the tears.” 

“probably not. i’ve known you a long time, lily, and i’ve never seen you happier than when he looks at you.” 

“don’t say things like that. i’m fucked up enough.” 

“i won’t say it again,” dorcas promises. “but i had to say it the once.”

lily’s throat burns but she refuses to cry again, refuses to give into that emotion one more time. she lays there instead and waits for everything to dim, waits for the confusion and the hurt to fade away. it never does. 

 

she lets in alice about a week later, wrapped in a blanket and feeling the aftershocks of a nightmare still. alice’s round face is pink with the fresh air, arms swamped with parcels, and her hair’s wet from the rain. 

lily’s wrapped up the an old jumper of james’, reluctant to take it off now. alice doesn’t say anything about how pale lily looks, which is refreshing. she doesn’t say much of anything as she unpacks her parcels, putting away all the potion ingredients so lily doesn’t have to. alice bustles around in that quiet, collected way of hers. 

they’d never been friends at school, really. they’d been in classes together but they were on the periphery of each others’ lives, different houses, different years. lily was one younger, alice was a hufflepuff. 

it had been the order that brought them together, that commonality that forged a friendship. lily had been invited to the wedding and had taken james, back before the war was so ever-present in their lives. 

she’s so caught up in her own thoughts that she misses alice’s question, just looks at alice looking at her, expectant. 

“hmm?” 

“i asked if you wanted some tea,” alice repeats, pointing at the almost-whistling kettle. “i went ahead and put the water on, i hope you don’t mind.” 

“no, no it’s fine. erm, yes. i’d love some tea, actually.” 

alice nods to herself, makes quick work of finding the teapot and cups and tea bags, lining them up neatly on the counter. they wait for the kettle to whistle in silence. 

“i’m pregnant,” alice says as she’s pouring the water into the teapot. lily blinks for a second, unsure if she’s heard correctly. 

“what?” 

alice puts the kettle down before she answers, fitting the lid onto the pot and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “i’m pregnant. me and frank are having a baby.” 

“oh my god,” lily says lowly, noticing now how alice’s shirt draped strangely over her front. “seriously?”

alice nods, her face breaking out into a bright smile. “seriously.” 

“oh my god,” lily repeats and smiles back, laughing helplessly. “so am i.” 

“what the hell?” alice asks, clapping her hands. “since when?” 

“november. i’m due in august. you?” 

“july.” 

“when’d you find out? is it a boy or a girl?” she’s not sure where the questions have come from but they tumble from her lips with unreserved happiness, a bright spot in the mess of everything. laughing, alice pours out the tea and hands a cup to lily, cups her hands around her own, and takes a sip.

“found out at about seven weeks. couldn’t figure out why i hated carrots all of a sudden—lily, i couldn’t even _look_ at them, let alone eat them— and realised i’d been very, very late on my period. frank’s overwhelmed but over the moon, of course. he shouted when i told him, just exploded in noise because he was so happy. i think my heart stopped.” 

“oh my god, _alice!”_

“i know. i know.” she’s still beaming, glowing really. it’s maybe the genuinely happiest lily’s been in a long, long time, watching her friend being pregnant. there was going to be a little longbottom toddling around in no time, a mini frank or alice. “are you happy?” 

“massively,” alice says but her smile fades a bit. she glances down and taps a fingernail on the handle of her mug, a weird energy in her hands. “i didn’t… i wasn’t sure if i was going to go through with it, though. it seems a bit cruel, doesn’t it? bringing a baby into the world as it is right now, all hate and war and shambles? i almost… as much as i’m excited, there’s some part of me that’s already terrified, already grieving, you know?” 

“i know,” she says because she _does_ and she can vividly remember standing in the shop bathroom and panicking. “what kind of mother am i, doing this voluntarily when you-know-who could kick down our door at any minute?”

“a bloody good one,” alice says fiercely. “you’ll be the fucking best, lily evans. the world is shit, yeah, but it’s always going to be shit. you can’t wait for everything to be perfect.” 

“suppose.” 

“say i’m right.” 

“you’re right. you always are,” lily answers and alice smiles, satisfied. 

“i know. what about james? how did he react?” 

lily falters for a moment, tracing the rim of her teacup. “he wasn’t… it’s complicated.” 

“complicated how?” alice’s voice has a dangerous edge, like she’s about to go and hex james into a proper response.

“i didn’t go about it the right way, i suppose. he would’ve been happy, _was_ happy, but i think he was too upset at me to show it.” 

“upset at you for being pregnant?” 

“ _no,_ merlin. no, i kept it a secret for a while. a long time, actually, and he found out when something happened and i was in hospital.”

“christ, lily.” 

“it wasn’t smart but he had just come back and i was too overwhelmed to think about anything else. i’d resigned myself to being a single mother and suddenly he was _here_ and _hurt_ and i didn’t want to make that hurt worse.” 

“he’ll come around, if he hasn’t already. he has to.” 

“i hope so,” lily answers and alice peeks up at her from her fringe, suddenly stern. 

“he will. remember? i’m always right.” 

 

she goes and visits her mum, the first time in ages and ages, and tells her the news too. ruth tears up instantly, smiling and crying and not asking where james is. 

she packages up remus’ wolfsbane and drops it in the letter box, doesn’t feel like she can face any of them right now. they’d take james’ side on this and she doesn’t feel like being shouted at again, three times over. 

she finds rat prints at her door and suspects it’s peter coming to spy on her; whether to make sure she’s alright or for some other reason, she’s not sure. she leaves out cheese anyway, and a bowl of water just in case. 

the boxes of their belongings are still stacked along the walls so she takes the time to unpack them, stacking books on the shelves and putting away clothes. the house is too empty and it makes her shake again so she makes it into a home as best she can. she washes all the linens and hangs them in the spring air, saving them just before it rains and making all the beds. she picks a bedroom for herself, picks one for the baby, and there’s one left over for guests. she scavenges what she needs and transfigures what she can’t find, and it all falls together slowly. 

bathilda has her over every so often, always inquiring about james and accepting lily’s bland answers. she tells stories instead, and lily finds out quickly that a few of the right questions will make bathilda ramble for hours. they’re all interesting and lily doesn’t mind listening, captivated by what she knows and what she tells. 

she feeds the chickens she bought on a whim when she was so tired of the quiet village, and gathers the eggs for her breakfasts. she buys a cheap, battered book of baby names and reads it in the bath, her bump sticking out of the water and wet fingerprints smudging the ink. 

she circles _christopher and_ _simon_ and _samuel_ and _edmund_ but none of them settle exactly right. dropping the book on the floor, she sinks down in the water and soaks until her fingers go pruny and there is no energy left in her body. 

 

she’s in the middle of kneading bread, dough coating her fingers and the thick smell of yeast in the air, when she looks up to find james in the doorway, watching her. she freezes. 

“i talked to alice,” he says, sheepishly messing with his hair. “well, more like she shouted at me for a bit.” 

“oh?” lily asks because it’s all she can say. james grimaces and lily glances down at her hands, cleaning the dough off. james waits until she’s wiping her hands on a towel before speaking again. 

“she told me i was being a bit of a prat.” 

“you had every right to be.” 

he doesn’t know how to answer this and he frowns, his hands buried deep in his pockets. she drops the tea towel on the counter and moves towards him, stands in front of him. 

“i didn’t mean it,” she tells him quietly. “the part about you leaving, i didn’t mean it.” 

“i know. that’s why i was being a prat. well, one of the many reasons.” 

“i’m tired of fighting with you.” 

“i know,” he says again, staring at her helplessly. “we can’t seem to help it, though.” 

“can’t we just agree to stop?” she asks, as if it works that way. she’d like to believe it works that way, though, and so she waits for james to nod. “please move back in the house. i’m so tired of being by myself.” 

“well. it is my house.” his lips tip up on one side in a smirk and she snorts, tugging on a piece of her hair. “and that’s my jumper too. have you taken it off, or just kept it on all this time?” 

“i’ve washed it. it’s warm and comfortable. not too tight on my stomach, see.” 

she pulls on the side to show the stretch and his eyes drop to her belly, widen at the bump that’s just starting to poke out. he reaches out to touch and stops himself, looking at her uncertainly. she nods, heart twisting because timidity is so foreign on him, such a far cry from the boy she knows him to be. 

he lays a warm palm on her stomach and strokes his thumb along the edge, eyes going wide in wonder.

“you can have it back, if you like.”

“what? oh, the jumper. no, you keep it. merlin knows it looks a hell of a lot better on you.” it’s probably a lie but she keeps that quiet “there’s a baby in there,” he says and she laughs because she can hardly believe it herself. 

“so they say. he’s supposed to be the size of a coconut.” 

“that big?”

“yeah. he’s giving me backaches all the time, and my feet are swollen more nights than not. fucking miserable i am,” she says but it’s fond. 

he sighs and straightens, looking the most contents she’s seen him in a long time. 

“welcome home,” she says quietly. he smiles. 

 

he moves into the third bedroom, to her dismay. it hurts more than it should and she thinks about yelling at him for it, making him see sense. but she’s tired all the time and it’s fragile again, _she’s_ fragile again, and it’s too much to worry about now. 

she convinces herself that having a bed to herself is luxurious and sleeps fitfully without james’ warm body beside her. 

 

and through it all, there’s the ever-present reminder of what happened to james in that lost month when he was with the death eaters. he plays at being normal, as normal as he can be considering the circumstances, but he’s different. he’s more jumpy, less inclined to touch her. 

but sometimes james kisses her, never on the mouth, always on some body part within reach. her wrist again. her shoulder, her back, the side of her head, like he’s reminding himself that she’s there. they’re short, fleeting things that feel like questions she has no answer to, leaves her wanting more. 

she doesn’t press because she’s not sure where they stand, how they are, if they’re even still dating, and she can’t bear the thought of him saying no. she can’t take rejection, not from him, so gives him his space. 

“do you want to marry me?” he asks one day and the question makes her drop a glass. she watches it shatter on the ground and doesn’t move until he vanishes the pieces away. “did you hear me?” 

“i heard you,” she says shortly. 

“do you want me to marry you? we could throw a wedding before the baby, or after if that’s better for you.” 

“no,” she lets out, harsh enough that he stares at her, surprised. “james, no.” 

“i thought you might want that.” 

“i _want_ ,” she bites out, blinks against the tears that have sprung up again, “for you to marry because you want to, not because of some misplaced obligation you feel. god, james.” 

“that’s not what i meant by it. of course i--” 

“please don’t finish that sentence, not unless you mean it.” 

he shuts his mouth, jerks his head down, and it feels like a punch to the chest. she runs from the room because she can’t stand to be there with him, with the sad, strange feeling between them. 

 

“fuck,” she mutters into the darkness. it’s one in the morning and she’s been tossing for hours, unable to get any sleep. she says it again, louder. “fuck.” she wraps her blanket around herself and stumbles from the bedroom, finds herself halfway down the corridor before she can stop herself. 

the bedroom is smaller than hers and james is sprawled out over most of the bed in that annoying way of his, snoring lightly. he jerks awake when she clambers up, swinging his head and reaching for his wand. 

“lily?” he asks, slurred with sleep, and she grunts, pushing him until there’s space for her and her pregnant belly. “what are you doing?” 

“sleeping.” 

“in my bed?” 

she cracks open an eye to glare at him, fully too exhausted for this. “since you won’t sleep in my bed, yes.” 

he stares at her for a moment, half-covered in shadow, and then makes to leave. 

“oh, no you don’t,” she says and shoots her hand out to wrap around his wrist. “i haven’t been able to sleep in _months_ and i’m tired of it. you’re staying.” 

“i don’t--” 

she yawns and the lateness makes her honest, makes her say what she’s been thinking and hasn’t been able to put into words. “i know you don’t love me anymore, but i can’t sleep without you and that’s pathetic but true.” 

he’s quiet for a moment, one leg still off the bed like he’s going to run for it, but she tugs feebly on his arm. 

“that’s not why i don’t want you to sleep here,” he says finally. “i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“how? by rolling on top of me in your sleep?” he shakes his head and he’s pale in the moonlight. “i’ll take that chance.”

“lily, please,” he says. it washes over her like ice water, taking her breath away for a moment. she lets go of him. 

“fine,” she mutters and gathers her blanket to go back to the emptiness of the other room. “but i can’t believe you tried to marry me and you won’t even stay in the same fucking room with me.”

“you’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly and it makes her stop, turn around to look at him. 

“about what?” she asks, taking two steps towards him. his eyes are big in the dark, and there’s just enough moonlight to light up his face. he steps closer so her belly brushes against his. 

“you said that i don’t love you. if you only know how decidedly _wrong_ that was.” 

“is it?” 

“it is.” he bends down slowly, carefully, until their foreheads are resting together and she has to cross her eyes to see his. “i’m so fucking in love with you, lily evans.” 

those words do funny things to her insides, makes them twist in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. 

“i thought-- you never said--” 

“you think too much,” he tells her with a smirk and she’s surging up on her toes before she can stop herself, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. he starts, presses his hands against her shoulders for a moment and she thinks he’s going to push her away. but he gives in, lets himself go pliant against her mouth. 

she breaks away with a breathless sort of laugh, winding her arms around his middle and pressing close, sighing when he hugs her back. 

“i’m never going to forgive you for this,” she tells him, yawning again, and he chuckles. 

“what part?” 

“all of it.” 

“that’s fair,” he says as he tugs her gently to the bed. “but we can talk about it when you’ve had some sleep.” 

she arranges them so she’s half on top, head on his chest and his arm curved around her so he can play with her hair. she counts his heartbeats and falls asleep before she hits fifteen. 

 

“dumbledore’s asked me to go on another mission,” he says and lily’s fork clatters on the table. 

“what? no!”

he shoots her a look. “i have to.”

“no, you don’t. you were just tortured—”

“i’ve had months and months to get better, and i have. it’s time, lily.”

“you’re going to be a _father,_ james,” she shouts, because she’s fought so hard to keep him and she thinks one more loss might kill her. “i’m having a baby and you can’t just go off on a mission!”

“frank—”

“i don’t fucking care what frank sodding longbottom does, we’re talking about you.”

“lily,” he says and it stops her in her tracks, makes her swallow her words. his face is tight and honest. “i have to do this, okay? i have to. for you, and for him, and for everyone. i can’t… i can’t just sit by without doing something again. you have to understand, _surely_ you understand that.”

she does, oh, she does. it’s why she fell in love with him in the first place, because he could never sit by when he could be helping, because he could never not do something. 

“if you die,” she tells him, a voice like ice, “i will bring you back myself and kill you again. so help me god, i will do it.” 

james laughs but he knows she’s serious, knows she’s stubborn enough to do it too. 

“promise,” he says. 

 

he’s gone for three days and comes back with scratches everywhere, blood crusted over his skin, but that’s it. she sits him down in the bath and runs it warm, pressing a wet flannel to james’ head. 

james watches as she cleans away the blood, tiredness pulling on his face. he’s not that badly hurt but she wanted to make sure for herself. her hands swipe over a cut a little too harshly and he hisses, wincing. “you’ve got to be more careful, james.”

“they’re just superficial.”

“it’s the intention behind it i don’t like. be more careful.”

“i’ll try,” he answers solemnly and she flicks him on the nose. he goes quiet as she finishes, humming when she presses a kiss to the cut on his temple. 

“harry,” he says out of the blue and she pauses in wringing out the flannel. 

“what?”

“i’ve always liked that name. for the baby.”

“harry,” she repeats, testing the name in her mouth. it sounds good, feels right, and she finds herself smiling. “harry james potter.”

a slow smile starts over james’ face, growing until he’s grinning. “harry james?”

“yeah. i thought that had a nice ring to it. and i wasn’t going to name him fleamont, i’m sorry.” 

james chuckles, rubbing at his nose. “i don’t think anyone should name their child fleamont. harry james, though…” 

“it’s a good name.” 

“it’s a great name,” james declares, turning into her touch. “perfect for our son.”

“our son,” she echoes. “our lovely, lovely boy.” 

 

it is may and she is six months pregnant. her stomach swells like a balloon and sirius’ eyes are huge every time he sees her. 

“you’re like a _blimp,_ evans.” 

“i’m aware,” she says wryly, rubbing at the stretched skin and trying not to laugh. “please don’t remind me too much.” 

remus whacks him on the back of the head and sirius reels back, outraged.

“what was that for?”

“it’s rude to tell a girl that she looks like a blimp, sirius!” 

“even if she’s pregnant?”

“ _especially_ if she’s pregnant, you giant tosser.”

“i’ll toss you,” growls sirius and launches himself at remus, knocking him to the floor. lily watches for a minute as they wrestle and goes back to reading her magazine. 

“what the hell is going on?” james asks, coming down the stairs and looking at the scene in wonder. 

“sirius called me fat and remus is defending my honour,” she tells him mildly and sirius’ head pops up from where he’s trying to get remus in a headlock. 

“oi, evans. i did not call you _fat._ ” 

she shrugs, biting back her smile. “close enough.” 

“ah, carry on then,” says james and he sits on the ground next to lily’s legs, nudging them with his elbow. “where’s peter?” 

“dunno. the boys said he was coming soon. he had something to do, apparently.” 

“strange, that.” 

“he has other friends, james.” 

“does he?” he says, tipping his head back to grin at her. she kicks him lightly with her toe. beside them, remus and sirius are done at their fighting, both looking smug. 

“who won?” asks lily and they both shrug. she rolls her eyes. “boys.” james’ eyebrows go down in faux-outrage and she raises an eyebrow, kicking him again. “you’re the worst of them.” 

he grabs her ankle and runs his fingers over the bottom, making her screech and twist out of his grip. he doesn’t let go easily and he follows her, tickling her mercilessly. 

“stop, stop, stop,” she cries out, laughing. “you’re going to make me wee myself.” 

“gross,” he says, dropping her foot, and she darts around him towards the loo. sirius’ nose wrinkles when she comes out, looking at her skeptically. 

“wee yourself?” 

“there’s a full baby sitting on my bladder, black.” 

“she sneezed the other day and it was like a waterfall,” james says conversationally and lily punches him in the arm, hard. “what was that for?” 

“don’t _say_ things like that.” 

the other two are wearing matched expressions of equal parts disgust and awe. 

“you _sneezed?_ ” 

lily points to her belly and shoots them both an unimpressed look. “baby on my bladder.” 

“horrifying,” sirius mutters and rubs his arm when lily punches him as well. “ouch, lily. pregnancy has made you violent.” 

“wankers like you make me violent,” she mutters back and sirius and james burst into laughter. “remus, you’re the only man i love. and peter too, i guess.” 

“peter’s not even _here._ ” 

“peter hasn’t been telling personal stories about me wetting myself, _james_ , so he’s a lot farther up the list of preferred men than you are.”

“you’re having my baby.” 

she narrows her eyes. “even more reason remus is now my favourite. this is all your damn fault.”

james’ mouth drops open and sirius claps him on the shoulder. 

“tough, mate.” 

remus grins until james throws a pillow at his face, hitting him dead on. remus throws it back but james dodges-- “bloody _quidditch players,”_ growls remus-- and soon there’s another fight going on, but this time with pillows. sirius jumps in right away and they’re shouting so much they can’t hear lily’s half-hearted attempts to stop them, though that might be on purpose.

remus hits sirius over the top of the head and the pillow bursts, sending feathers floating around the living room, landing on the shoulders of three very surprised boys. lily laughs so hard she cries, sinking to the floor in a tangle of limbs and tears. 

 

james takes her for a picnic when they get too stir-crazy, packing up a basket and winding their way along the road until they come to a little hill dotted with sheep. lily lays the blanket down next to a patch of wildflowers and james insists on unpacking everything else. she lays on her side and watches him work, pressing a hand to her stomach as harry kicks away happily. 

james has packed bread and cheese, strawberries and wine, butter and jam. he forgot a proper knife to cut the bread so they tear it instead, eating it with their fingers and drinking from the bottle. 

it’s warm but there’s a breeze that tugs at lily’s sundress and it’s so perfect it almost hurts, a knife in her heart because she knows days like this are few and far in between. 

james is lying on his back, head pillowed on his hands, and watching the sky. she sits and watches too, laughs when he points out a cloud that looks like a puffskein. 

“most clouds look like puffskiens. puffskiens are round.” 

“yes, well, that one looks extra like one,” he says, sitting up so he can properly roll his eyes. 

“if you say so.” 

“i do,” he declares and she shoves him so he falls back against the blanket, hair a mess. she tries to fix it, pulls at it with her fingers, and he hums, eyes falling closed. “that feels nice.” 

“you’re like a cat,” she tells him and he meows with a straight face, making her snort with laughter. he’s laughing too, eyes crinkled up at the corners, and her hands are still petting at his hair, and he looks her in the face and his expression goes soft. 

“marry me,” he says and she blinks. “for real this time. i love you and i want to grow old with you and would you _please_ marry me. tomorrow or next year or in a decade, i don’t care, just say you’ll marry me, lily evans.” 

“of course i will, you daft idiot,” she says breathlessly and he tugs her down to kiss him, cups her cheek in his hand and thumbs at her jaw, tangles the other in her hair, and she can feel him grin against her lips, almost too much to kiss. she’s grinning too, laughing into his mouth, and she breaks away to catch her breath, stop her heart from nearly pounding out of her chest. 

james reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring, catches her hand. “merlin, i’m glad you said yes because i’m tired of carrying this thing around.”

he pushes it on her finger and lets it sit at the base, sparkling and beautiful. it looks old and she peers at the setting in awe. 

“where’d you get this? it’s beautiful.” 

“it was my mum’s. she gave it to me and told me a pretty girl like you deserved a pretty ring.” 

lily blushes, running her thumb along the edge. “you’ve had it that since she died?” 

“erm, no,” he says and he’s blushing too, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink. “she gave it to me a lot sooner than that.” 

“when?” 

“christmas holls in seventh year,” he says sheepishly and she stares at him, eyebrows flying to her hairline. 

“she gave you a ring two months after we started dating? and you’ve been carrying it around this whole time?” 

“to be fair, i did know i wanted to marry you about a week after i kissed you for the first time.” 

“did you now?” 

“i did. it took a while, but i knew it was going to happen. mum knew it too. she always said you were just the girl she thought i’d marry. dad agreed.” 

“you’re going to make me cry again,” she mumbles and james kisses her cheek. 

“don’t cry unless you’re happy.” 

“i’m very happy. too happy, that’s the problem.” she blinks again, rapidly. “five years, james?” 

“yeah, yeah,” he says, snagging a leftover piece of bread and popping it in his mouth. “you never should’ve let me sit next to you in potions that first day of seventh year.” 

“you shouldn’t have ever dumped a bucket of water on sirius’ head.” 

“fair,” he says, yawning, and pulls on her arm. “c’mon.” 

“what?”

he tugs until she’s next to him, head on his arm. “i’m sleepy, take a nap with me, evans.” he opens an eye to look at her and grins. “mrs potter.” 

she pretends to contemplate it. “it has a nice ring to it, i guess.” 

“lily potter,” james says drowsily and shuts his eyes again, breath going deep with sleep. she looks at him for a second, traces her eyes over the planes of his face, and remembers how he wouldn’t even stay in the same bed with her a month ago. it feels a little strange to be finding so many happinesses in the world when the world seemed so dark, but lily doesn’t think she’d be able to survive without them. 

she tucks her head under his chin and hooks her arm around his chest, letting herself doze in the sunlight and grass and breeze. 

 

the barrenness of the walls soon gets to her. james laughs at her nesting but comes back with a tin full of sunny yellow paint. they paint the nursery with the colour, almost getting more on each other than on the walls, one afternoon in late may. 

the windows are thrown wide open and james laughs himself into a frenzy when lily yells at him for the two yellow handprints on her arse. she swipes a line of paint down his nose while he’s still giggling and a paint war breaks out, smudged pawprints covering their clothes and faces. james looks smug, even half-obscured, and he kisses lily as the afternoon light slants down into the room, painting it a warm gold. 

they get remus to draw animals on the walls, dogs and stags and rats and wolves, and sirius charms them so they run around the nursery, chasing each other’s tails. remus paints a patch of lilies, too, that rustle in the corners of your eye. 

james fashions a mobile out of snitches and fixes it over the crib, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“what if he doesn’t want to play quidditch?” lily teases and he looks horrified. 

“he’s going to play quidditch. he’s _harry james potter,_ and he’s going to be captain of the gryffindor team.” 

“what if he’s a hufflepuff?” 

“that’s fine. hufflepuff can hold their own.” 

“and ravenclaw?” 

“ravenclaws are okay. he can be a ravenclaw.” 

“slytherin?” she asks and james rolls his eyes, squeezing her around the waist. 

“lily darling, he can be in whatever house he wants to be in, but i do think uncle sirius will have a few choice words if he chooses slytherin.” 

“fair enough,” she says, giggling, and tips her head to survey the nursery. “do you think it needs anything else?” 

“a baby?” 

“that’s coming later, thank merlin.” 

“hmm, then i don’t think so.”

“a rocking chair,” she realises. “we’re missing a rocking chair.” 

she finds a suitable piece of wood in the garden and carries it up, charms it into shape until it’s a very handsome rocking chair indeed. 

“there. now we’re done.” 

“you are really remarkable, mrs potter,” james tells her, kissing the side of her head. “you should go into magical furniture, if you get the chance.” 

“mmm, because that would be a field i enjoy.” 

“you never know,” says james. “there could be a market.” 

“you’re a strange, strange boy, james.” 

“maybe. but you’ve already promised to marry me and you can’t take it back so i guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“i guess i am.” 

 

they get married on a blessedly cloudless day in june, out in a field of wildflowers. it’s a small thing, but sirius stands at the front with james and lily’s dad walks her down the aisle, and her mum cries. 

fairy lights are strung overhead and they all dance until long after dark, drunk on wine and happiness, and james kisses her every few minutes and it’s a perfect wedding. 

“would you have wanted something bigger?” he asks her lowly, when they’re taking a break from dancing and she’s slouched against his chest. “something more planned out, or more extravagant?” 

“christ, no,” she tells him with a snort, pressing her lips to the wrist that’s dangling over her shoulder. “i have all my loved ones here and you’re my husband and i wouldn’t trade this away for anything, not ever, not in a million years.” 

he’s quiet for a moment and she can’t twist around to catch his expression. “i love you, lily,” he says suddenly and she must’ve heard that phrase a hundred thousand times, but it still makes her heart beat a little faster. 

“i love you too, james.” 

 

in hindsight, lily shouldn’t have tried to go to visit her parents so close to august, but it had been so long since she’d seen them last. she apparates to cokeworth and walks the distance to her house, resting periodically when a contraction came along. 

james had panicked the first time she had one, trying to push her outside so they could get to a hospital immediately, but lily had dug in her heels. 

“no, james, they’re not _real,_ ” she had nearly shouted. “they’re braxton hicks and they’re like… practice contractions.”

“practice contractions?”

“yeah,” she said dimly as another one hit. she waited until it passed to speak again as james’ face grew white. “they’re normal, i promise. and the baby’s not due until august.”

“that’s _next month!_ ” 

“five weeks away, at least.” 

“don’t babies come that early, sometimes?” 

“yeah, sometimes, but not this one,” she said with an air of finality, sending him a glare just in case he missed the message. “i am not going to a&e over practice contractions.” 

he looked about ready to throw her over his shoulder and take her himself and she’d be touched if she wasn’t so amused. he’d given in but jumped every time lily moved that night. 

the contractions had gotten worse, but she’d assured james that she was two weeks out from her due date and could manage the couple of minutes’ walk to visit. 

it’s all worth it to see her mum’s beaming face as she throws open the door, ushering lily into her childhood home. 

“christ, you’re so _big,_ lily!” says ruth, cooing over lily’s belly. strangely, she’s not as upset when it’s her mum as she was when it was sirius. “he’s going to be so big.” 

“i hope not,” she says, sitting down to ease her shoes off her swollen feet. “i can’t bear lugging around any bigger of a stomach.” 

“i remember when i was like this with you,” ruth goes on and there’s a tear sparkling in the corner of her eye. “it was christmas and i was certain i was going to ruin the holiday by going into labour. and then again with new year’s, but how cool would it have been to have a new year’s baby?” 

“not cool at all. my birthday’s already too close to christmas for everyone to lump together my presents. i can’t imagine it being any earlier.” her mum doesn’t answer, too caught up in her memories, and lily sighs. “can i have some water?” 

ruth fetches it and lily takes it gratefully, draining half the glass in one go. 

“i was just talking to petunia yesterday, and she mentioned how dudley--” 

lily chokes on her water, coughing and laughing and spluttering all at one. her mum gives her a dirty look. 

“i’m sorry,” she gasps as soon as she’s able. “i just forget how ridiculous of a name that is every time. dudley dursley, _christ._ ” 

“lily potter, that is not an appropriate way to respond to the very nice name your sister--” 

“dudley, mum. _dudley._ ” 

lily had laughed so hard she had cried at that one, clutching the letter from her mum until it almost ripped. james had pried it from her hands to see what had her in hysterics and then had joined her. she had actually wet herself that night and that had made them laugh harder, until they were absolute messes of tears and giggles and wee. 

“it’s a nice, strong name,” protests ruth. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. carry on, please.” 

“i was _saying_ that petunia told me dudley slept for a whole four hours the other night, which is a full hour longer than before. tuney was ecstatic.” 

“flipping hell,” lily says faintly, trying to imagine only getting three hours of sleep at a time. 

“he’s colicky.” 

“how unfortunate,” she replies and thinks that any sane baby would be colicky if he were named _dudley_ and was the son of vernon dursley. she’s certain harry won’t be like that. “poor petunia.” 

“mm, it’s taking a toll on her. she seemed touchier than usual,” says ruth. 

“that’s difficult to be,” mumbles lily and dodges the good-natured smack her mum tries to land. “what? it’s true!” 

“it’s not nice to say.” 

“she’s not nice to me, so why should i be nice to her?” 

ruth looks up at the ceiling briefly and it’s a gesture lily knows well from her childhood. “my lord, you both are fully grown women, not children. you’re mothers with your own babies and you still fight like you’re about six.” 

lily shrugs. “she started it.” 

ruth shakes a finger at her. “not true.” 

it is true, sort of. petunia’s the one who started the whole ordeal back when lily got her hogwarts letter and hasn’t let it go since. but lily is older now, wiser, and so she drops the fight again. 

“so how is little… dudley?” 

“absolutely ginormus,” ruth says after a moment and they both break out into a laugh. lily stands up, grabs her glass, and heads into the kitchen, still chuckling. she’s leaning over the sink when she feels a curious little pop. 

“wh--” she gets out before wetness trickles down her leg and she drops the glass in her hand. it bounces onto the counter and rolls into the sink, clattering the whole way. “oh my _god._ ” 

“lily? are you alright?” 

“i think my water just broke?” she says numbly and there’s a crash as ruth runs into the kitchen. she takes in the scene, eyes darting from lily’s stunned face to the damp patch spreading across lily’s dress, and claps a hand over her mouth. 

“oh my _god,_ lily.” 

“my water just broke,” she repeats and whips out her wand, casts a patronus charm. her mum takes in a deep breath when the silvery doe appears but lily pays her no mind. “remus, the baby is coming. tell james and bring the bag i stashed in the front closet. we’ll be at the hospital in cokeworth.” 

the doe bounds off and lily turns to her mum, eyes wide. “can you take me to the hospital?” 

 

lily’s been settled in a room for all of ten minutes when james comes skidding in, glasses askew and looking panicked. but the baby’s not there yet, doesn’t come for another eight hours. her mum holds her hand, encourages her on, while james makes strangled noises somewhere by her head. 

it hurts and she tells them all that she’s giving a half-dozen times, but soon there is a perfect baby boy wrapped on her chest, blinking at her with his hair just as messy as james’. 

“my baby,” she coos, touching her finger softly to his mouth, his cheeks, his perfect little nose because she can’t quite believe he’s real. james watches over her shoulder, face slack. “my little harry.” 

harry’s arm comes loose from his blankets and it comes over his head, fists rubbing at his eyes. james strokes his fingers and harry opens his fists, clasps james’ pinkie like he’s hanging on for dear life. 

“i’m a dad,” james whispers as the biggest grin spreads across his face. “i’m a fucking _father._ ” 

lily laughs. “want to hold him?” she says and hands harry over before james can say anything. he fumbles with the blankets, looking terrified, before his arms find the right angle and harry settles down. 

“hello, harry potter,” says james, peering down at harry’s face. “my name’s james. i’m your dad. that’s your mum, and she’s pretty much the best person in the world, and the prettiest too.” 

“james,” lily laughs, covering her face with a hand. he narrows his eyes at her. 

“what? i’m introducing him to his parents.” 

“you’re being ridiculous. go introduce him to the boys while i take a nap,” she says, yawning, and james nods, wrapping his arms protectively around the bundle of blankets and baby. “don’t let sirius drop him!” she calls and his laugh echoes down the hallways. 

 

 

the warmth doesn’t last. they’re in the middle of a war and wars do not stop for love, as much as lily would like them to. james gets called out for days at a time and brings back order members covered in blood. she heals them and makes potion after potion to help but some still die. 

she shakes apart in the bathroom after each death, pressing her fist to her mouth to muffle the sobs, and washes her hands over and over until the feeling of blood is gone. james smokes a pack of cigarettes he nicked from sirius, leaning against the back of the house and coming in with a stony expression to kiss her on the cheek. 

 

harry is a good baby; he does not cry often but watches everything with big eyes. he smiles when james laughs, smiles when lily sings, smiles when padfoot nudges at his feet with his big nose. lily takes picture after picture and has too many favourites to count. she hangs them up on the walls. 

there’s one of harry asleep on james’ chest on the sofa, one of sirius curved around harry on the floor, one of remus making a silly face at him, one of peter looking frantic as harry grabs onto his hair. there’s one of lily as well, sitting in the sunlight and smiling down at harry. that one barely moves, just a little rocking of the chair. 

she puts up new pictures as often as she can. there’s painfully little for her to smile about, living in this fear, but these remind her that life has it’s happy moments.

harry grows fast, as babies are wont to do, and it seems like every week there is something new to coo over, something wonderful to applaud. 

dorcas is visiting, drinking tea in the front room, when harry rocks from his belly to his back, waving his hands in the air. 

“did you see that?” lily gasps, rushing over to scoop him up and pepper kisses on his cheek. “clever, clever boy.”

“he rolled over,” says dorcas dryly, but she’s smiling proudly too.

“wasn’t it amazing?”

“he is the most spoilt child i’ve seen in a while.”

lily makes a face at her and sits back down, shifting harry to her lap and handing him a teaspoon to play with. “he’s the smartest, handsomest, most best baby in the world.”

“that too,” dorcas says fondly, reaching out to pinch harry’s arm, gentle. “it’s because he’s got the coolest auntie in the world.”

“do you love your auntie doe?” lily says, blowing a raspberry on harry’s cheek. “is she your favourite?”

“i’d better be, or there will be hell to pay.”

“take it up with sirius. he’s the strongest competition, i’d reckon.”

dorcas narrows her eyes and sips at her tea. “i can beat that wanker any day of the week.”

“promises, promises,” lily teases, ducking the napkin dorcas tosses in her direction. 

 

a month later, dorcas is dead by voldemort’s hand and lily vomits for the first time since she was pregnant. 

“murdered,” says remus dully. “scars across her chest and her mouth opened in fear. you-know-who killed her himself.”

lily can’t speak past the lump in her throat, past the horror clogging her body. 

“killed her himself” james whispers, dazed. “our doe, gone.”

lily runs from the room and locks herself in the bathroom, sicking up in the toilet and sprawling on the floor. 

she doesn’t come out for hours, waits until she can stop shaking. the boys are still there when she comes out, and harry is wailing in james’ arms. 

“he’s hungry,” james tells her and she takes him dutifully, tugging her top down so he can eat. peter’s ears go red and he stares determinedly anywhere but at her. 

“are you alright?” remus asks, gentle, and she hates that cautious tone in his voice again. 

“no.”

he doesn’t look surprised and james stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder and his thumb smoothing over the tenseness there. 

“she was my best friend,” lily says after a second, blinking furiously. “and now she’s gone. can you imagine james dying? or sirius or peter or remus? god, she’s _gone_. he _killed_ her.” 

“would you have rather she turned?” asks peter and his beady eyes are suddenly on her, strangely curious. “would you rather she was alive and allied with voldemort?”

“i would rather,” she says icily, switching harry over to the other side. james’ hand is hot on her skin and she can see the glint of his wedding ring in the corner of her eye, “that voldemort was dead, burned to a fucking crisp and his ashes ground into the dirt. i wish that he had never killed her, never rose to power. i wish that dorcas didn’t have to die to stop a tyrant and i wish that this bloody fucking war wasn’t a problem in the first place. _that_ is what i’d rather, pettigrew.”

his gaze slides away from her and he nods. there’s something off about him, something she can’t quite put her finger on, but she doesn’t have the energy to figure it out at the moment. 

she tips her head back against the sofa and looks at james’s chin until he looks down at her. 

“i’m thirsty,” she says quietly. he squeezes her shoulder once and disappears. 

 

the bad news pours in like waves in an endless ocean, each one crashing upon the shore of her emotion and knocking her breathless. 

a group of muggles dies in london. the ministry is attacked and death eaters are very narrowly beat. remus comes with his hands shaking and a cut under his eye, telling her about the state they found edgar bones and his family in. 

“hung from their ankles and in near shreds,” he says tonelessly. “the dark mark was over their house.”

sirius tells her about the little muggle boy whose memories he wiped so he wouldn’t remember the death eaters crashing into the room, killing everyone around him. 

“he was the only one alive because he got knocked down by his mum. he was under her body for an hour, lily, trapped.”

lily mends his broken wrist and squeezes harry close, kissing the top of his sweet little head and feeling like she’s drowning again. 

they hear about the twins from peter, who comes stumbling in with sirius and remus in tow, at nine at night. 

“fabian and gideon are dead,” peter says and lily sucks in a breath. she didn’t know them too well but they were impossible not to like with their red hair and ever-present grins. fabian had hugged her after her first order mission, lifted her straight off the ground, and it had felt like a bright spot in a very dreary day. 

“what happened?” 

“death eaters,” growls sirius, bitter. “they got cornered. it took five of them to bring the two down, and the prewetts took out three on the way.”

“god,” lily says, stumbling into a chair and sitting down. she buries her face in her hands. “i can’t believe it. fabian and gideon? really?” 

“really,” peter answers. “i couldn’t believe it either.” 

“it gets worse,” remus adds grimly and something in the air crystallizes, sharpens. lily’s breath gets stuck in her chest. “there’s a spy in the order.” 

it falls onto them like rocks falling on concrete, heavy and earth-shattering. a spy in the order. the only people in the order are her friends, her family. not a single one of them could betray them to the other side. 

james speaks for the first time, words cracking like ice. “what?” 

“he’s right,” says sirius and lily can hear the anger running through it, the outrage. “dumbledore’s certain someone is leaking information to you-know-who, the bastard,” he finishes, explosively, and peter flinches at the noise. “none of those death eaters should’ve known the prewetts were coming and there were _five_ waiting _.”_

lily glances up to see the four boys all watching each other, suspicion creeping over their faces, and it breaks her heart. she looks at remus. 

“it’s not you,” she tells him fiercely. “we know it’s not you.”

“lily,” he starts uncertainly and she shakes her head, cutting him off. 

“ _no,_ remus. i’m not letting you play the martyr. you’re no more a spy than i am, or james, or sirius or peter. we’ve gone over this already.” 

remus opens his mouth to argue and she points a finger at him. “don’t you dare. go get the firewhiskey out of the cupboard and some shot glasses so we can give the prewetts a proper goodbye.”

reluctantly, remus goes off and she glares at the rest of them in the room. “i know i’m a wild loon, but if any of you doubt him because whatever you think a werewolf would be, i will hex you into oblivion. he is not the spy and you all know it and i will not let old prejudices or grudges or _whatever_ drive him away. understand?”

they all agree in varying degrees of warmth and lily rubs her face again. she could never understand the prejudice in purebloods, not towards muggleborns and not towards werewolves. it makes her head ache, makes fury bubble at the back of her throat, makes her want to shake every witch or wizard until their poison poured out of them and they could live in _peace._

remus comes back in, handing them all a glass and silently pouring firewhiskey it for everyone. 

“to fabian and gideon,” sirius says, holding his up, and they all follow.

it’s a muted night. 

 

the days grow colder as they cycle into winter, setting up christmas decorations for the benefit of harry. the cottage spills warm light into the world for all of the cold months but james still goes out on missions for the order, no matter how much she asks him not to. 

she bears his absences quietly because she has to, and heals the various wounds he brings home with him. he comes home one night, banged up and bloody. he’d been gone for four nights and lily is beside herself with worry.

“m’sorry,” he mumbles immediately and she can tell from the way the words stick in his mouth that he is pissed, can tell from his eyes that he’s been drunk for a while, and anger starts to simmer in her belly. 

“where were you?” 

“with sirius. we went out.” 

“i thought you were on a mission? when did that end?” 

james squints at her, like he’s trying to assess her mood, but he’s too drunk to do anything but narrow his eyes. “yesterday.” 

“you spent a whole day getting _wankered_? what the fuck, james potter?”

“m’sorry,” james tries again, propping himself against the wall. “i didn’t mean to get drunk. it just sorta happened. was with sirius.” 

she lets out a large sigh, but helps him into the room and settles him on the sofa. 

“yeah, you said that already,’

“wanna go to bed,” he whines, trying to sit up, but she pushes his shoulder down until he relaxes. 

“not on your life. i’d rather not wake up with sick all over me and harry, thank you very much.” 

james squints at her, reaching a hand up to feel at her face when he can’t see properly. “are y’mad at me?”

“yes.” 

“is that why i can’t go to bed?” 

“partly, yes.” he pouts and she takes off his glasses so they don’t break in the night, summons a blanket to drape over him. “go to sleep, love. we’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

“nnnghh,” mumbles james and shoves his face in the pillow. she looks at him for a second, torn between anger and amusement, and goes back to bed. 

she’s not quiet in the morning when she’s getting ready. she lets the pots and pans clang and rattle as she makes breakfast, speaks to harry normally, doesn’t bother to tiptoe around the house. 

james lets out a groan and rolls off the sofa, stumbles into the kitchen, and sits at the table. “oh, my head.” lily doesn’t answer, just slams the oven door closed. james winces. “could you be a tiny bit quieter?” he begs and lily turns to face him, crossing her arms. 

“four days, james. you were gone for four fucking days.” 

“i know.” 

“i thought you were dead.” 

james looks at her, cheek still pillowed on his arms. “you did?” 

“i always worry you’re dead when you go on out for the order.” 

“i can take care of myself.” 

“ah yes,” lily says dryly and puts a plate of eggs by james’ head. he groans at the smell. “because getting pissed off your arse with sirius is definitely taking care of yourself.” 

“why are you mad about that? i’ve done it before.” 

she nearly throws a spoon at his head. “i’m not upset because you went out, i’m upset because you went out after a mission and didn’t tell me and didn’t come home for a full day after you were supposed to. that’s what i’m mad about. and,” she continues, handing harry the spoon to mouth at instead, “it’s ironic because weren’t _you_ the one who got so mad at me for not leaving a note that one time i visited remus?” 

“that was like a year ago. over, in fact. irrelevant.” 

“a year and four months, to be exact.” 

james narrows his eyes at her. “how do you know that?” 

“because _your son_ is seven months old,” she replies and hands him a jar of baby food, motions at harry. james looks at harry, then at her, and then at harry again. 

“i guess that argument was good for one thing. you’re sure it was then?” 

“positive.” 

“hmm. i wonder if he’ll have a temper because he was conceived during hate sex.” 

“It wasn’t hate sex, and he’ll have a temper because we both have a temper. speaking of, i’m still furious at you. don’t distract me.” 

he catches her as she goes by, pushing the baby food away and pulling her into his lap. she kicks at his shins but he ignores her, kissing her cheek. 

“i’m sorry i scared you,” he says quietly. “and i’m sorry i got drunk and didn’t tell you. that was not good of me.”

“apology not accepted. you’ll have to work a lot harder than that,” she tells him and he bites at her shoulder, making her jump.

“brat,” he says, fond. “you’ll have to wait for naptime, then, for a proper apology.” she pretends to think about it and he bites again, this time where her shoulder meets her neck, and it makes her hiss. “a _really_ good apology,” he says against her throat and his breath makes her shiver. 

“you’re randy this morning.” 

“you’re fit and i haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“harry’s right there,” she points out and james twists to look at him. he’s playing with his food, making a mess of everything, and james smiles. 

“he’ll be fine. a bit of a temper, but fine.” 

lily kisses james’ cheek and james catches it on the side of his mouth, smiling. 

“sorry i yelled when you were hungover,” she says. “but you’re the one who gets to clean up after harry.” 

he groans, pinching her side as she laughs at him. but he picks harry up and takes him to the bath without complaint, and plays with him until naptime, and sings quidditch chants until harry nods off against his chest, and apologizes so well to lily that she sees stars, her hands twisted in his hair and his smirk smothered against her skin. 

 

the news comes on a wednesday, six days after harry learns to walk. 

the phone rings in the house, the one she installed so she could have some measure of connection, the one that only two people have the number to. she picks up. 

they die in the most mundane of ways, the most muggle of ways. it’s a car crash down in surrey, a drunk driver and an out of control car and not a lick of dark magic to be found. 

lily drops the phone when petunia says it and has to bend to retrieve it. 

“the what?”

“the funeral,” petunia replies, disapproving, but lily knows her well enough to catch the crack in her voice. “it’s on saturday. are you going to come?”

“of course i’m going to come,” lily answers numbly. “it’s our parents, of _course_ i’m coming.”

“will you be bringing your family?” 

“yeah, course. i-- fuck, tuney. a car crash? you’re sure they’re dead.” 

“i’m sure,” snaps petunia. “do not make me repeat it again. the funeral’s at four, at the church down the road from spinner’s end. do not be late.”

“do you need me to help--” 

“no,” she says and hangs up. lily stays there for a while, the phone pressed to her cheek until she’s positive it’s left marks. james comes down the stairs and his smile drops off his face. 

“lily?”

“they died,” she says and he takes the phone from her, puts it down on its cradle. “oh my god, they died.” 

“who? who, lily?” 

“mum and dad. they’re… dead.” 

there’s tears on her cheeks, stinging her eyes and her throat. her hands are shaking. james catches one of them in his hands and tugs her to the sofa. her chest is heaving, and it’s only a minute before he wraps her in a hug. 

“death eaters?” 

she shakes her head, face hidden in the crook of his neck. “accident.” 

“oh, love.” 

it takes a while for the sob to break but it breaks like a wave breaking on the shore, overwhelming and sudden. it feels like she’s shaking apart again, turning inside out. she curls her fingers around james’ arms and he hugs her closer. 

“they weren’t supposed to die,” she sobs. “they weren’t supposed to die yet.” 

“i know, love. i know.” 

 

the funeral is an over the top and gaudy affair, exactly what lily expects from something petunia planned. she had warned james before they came but he still looks around in disbelief, bemusement creeping in under the grief. 

“why are there so many flowers?” he whispers as harry sneezes, and then sneezes immediately after harry. 

“not sure,” she answers, smoothing the collar of his shirt down. it’s one they bought second-hand in a hurry, charmed into fitting correctly. she still wishes she had put one more unwrinkling spell on it, though. “it’s all petunia.” 

she catches sight of the two caskets at the front and sobers immediately, taking in a shaky breath. james squeezes her hand. 

“we’ll get through this.” 

“i don’t know how,” she tells him, staring at the satin lining peeping out of her dad’s casket. “i have no bloody idea.” 

“we’re here for you, me and harry.” 

“can you stun me until it’s all over?” 

he sighs and kisses the side of her head. “no, love. i can’t do that.” 

the funeral starts and it’s excruciating. lily alternates between wanting to catch every word and not wanting to remember any of it, tunes out half of what the priest is saying.

death wasn’t supposed to touch them too, not yet. they were supposed to live, supposed to see harry grow up and become an adult, supposed to hold more grandchildren and call lily more times on the phone and-- 

they were supposed to do so much more. 

she stands up to do her eulogy and chokes through it, the tears falling so fast she can barely read her notes. still, she manages to get through what she needs to say and sits next to james. harry reaches for her, chanting a _mamamamama_ until she scoops him up and cuddles him close. he pats at her wet cheeks and she kisses the top of his head, trying not to collapse there in the second row of the church. 

the only mercy she can think of is that they died the muggle way, no magic souring their deaths. just a long, happy life that was cut too short. 

 

james whisks a squirmy harry off after the end of the service as she goes around and is comforted by well-meaning friends. the women stroke her arm and offer their condolences; the men hook their thumbs in their pockets and mutter about her parents being gone too soon. lily thanks them all, wraps her arm around her mum’s best friend, and wonders if the day will ever end. 

“lily,” petunia says, voice clipped, and lily starts. it’s the first time she’s really talked to lily all day; they avoided each other at the beginning except for petunia to inform her when the eulogy would be. 

“hello, tuney.” petunia flinches at the nickname but recovers quickly, hoists her baby higher onto her hip. _baby_ is being generous. lily reckons he looks more like a beach ball wtih a bobble hat on top. “is this dudley?” 

“it is. can you say hello, duddykins?” 

dudley looks at lily with a flat expression and shoves a biscuit into his mouth. lily can hear her mum’s voice in her head saying _he’s ginormus_ and she has to stifle a laugh. petunia’s frown goes deeper. 

“where your… family?” 

“harry needed to run, so james took him somewhere. dunno where. is vernon here too?” 

“mm, he’s talking to mr hoy about something.” 

she nods and lily glances over her shoulder to see vernon’s hulking figure talking to a very surprised man. 

“oh. wonderful. the service was lovely, petunia. thank you for being the one to organize it.” 

petunia gives her a withering look. “i had to organize it, otherwise it wouldn’t have been done.” 

“i would’ve-- i’m sorry you felt that way,” she amends and petunia sniffs, hoists dudley up again. “do you need me to pay for anything?” 

“keep your money. heaven knows you need it, what with the two of you having a child and no job to speak of.” 

lily flinches. “It’s not that easy.” 

petunia purses her lips and hands dudley another biscuit when he starts to wail. lily thinks about her mum again and half smiles, half winces. 

“there you are, lily,” james says, sliding in beside her. his suit’s noticeably more wrinkled and harry’s grubbier than when they left but she doesn’t care. petunia does, lily can tell in the way she’s curled her lip. 

“james, you remember my sister. and this is dudley, her son. tuney, this is harry.” 

harry waves at his name before noticing dudley. the two babies watch each other warily, harry turning his body closer into james’ and dudley sticking his fist in his mouth again. 

“for god’s sake, lily. it’s petunia, not tuney” petunia hisses. “we are not children anymore.” 

“i’m sorry,” lily says, more out of habit than actual apology. “i forgot.” 

petunia makes a low sound in her throat. “i have something i have to see to before the burial,” she says and stalks away, her nose in the air. 

“she was pleasant, as always,” mutters james and lily turns to him, suddenly exhausted. 

“james, not now. please. i can’t now.” 

“of course,” he says and touches his forehead to hers. harry giggles and copies them, banging his head against the side of theirs. it makes lily smile, just for a moment. this godawful day’s not ended yet, but she has her boys and it’s enough to get through. 

//

she had noticed something was wrong with remus, of course she had. it was almost impossible not to notice if you were close, and lily was close with remus. she was close with all of the marauders; dating james meant that she was really dating all four of them, in a strange way. it’s how they worked, and she realised it very soon. 

she didn’t know what to look for, how to phrase her questions well enough to search for an answer. there was a general sense of lethargy sometimes, he was sickly occasionally, every month or so he disappeared for a day to sleep and all the boys with him. all relatively innocuous symptoms but there was something _off_ about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. 

“whatcha reading, evans?” sirius asked, jumping over the back of the common room sofa to take the seat next to her before james could. james glared and lily pressed her lips together to stop from laughing out loud. 

“a book, black. you should try it some time.” 

“reading’s for losers,” he said loftily and remus rolled his eyes, sitting on the ground next to the fire, peter beside him. james sat at lily’s feet and leaned against her knees. “you should pick a hobby that’s more fun.” 

“what? like skipping class all day to sleep and then eating enough to feed a small family?” 

“exactly,” sirius said and leaned back to pat at his stomach. “reckon i could eat enough to feed a large family tonight.” 

“you’re all mental,” lily muttered but raked her fingers through james’ hair anyway, making him sigh. 

“what _are_ you reading, lily?” remus asked. she flipped the cover around to show him the cover, let him take hold of it and flip through the pages. 

“it’s a lot of muggle fairy tales. cinderella and little red riding hood and snow white.”

“little red riding hood? what’s that, a disease?” james asked, laughing, and she tugged on his hair to make him stop. 

“no, it’s not! it’s about a girl who goes to deliver a basket of food to her grandmother in the woods and is stopped by a wolf.”

“a wolf?” peter said and lily nodded. 

“a wolf. he wants the food, so he beats her to her gran’s and tricks her into thinking he’s the grandmother—“

“wait, the wolf can _speak_?”

lily sighed. “yes, sirius. the wolf can speak.”

“is he the victim of a bad spell?”

“no.”

“an animagus?”

“no—“

“a werewolf?”

“he’s not any of those things, he’s just a wolf. an ordinary wolf who can speak because this is a _fable_ and not reality.”

“and muggle children just accept that?” sirius asked, shaking his head. “a wolf speaking without any logical reason for him to speak?”

“yes, sirius, because it’s a story, and not all stories need to be explained.”

he grunted and waved a hand for her to continue. 

“anyways. the wolf eats the grandmother—“

“what?!” exclaimed james. 

lily threw her hands up in the air, accidentally kneeing james in the back. “you lot are the worst people to tell stories to!”

“because these stories are mental,” james cried as sirius nodded emphatically beside him. “talking wolves eating defenceless grandmothers? this would give me nightmares as a child.”

“it ends happily, sort of.”

“muggles are strange,” said sirius. “bloody mental.”

“keep telling the story, lily,” urged remus. he had been listening quietly, watching her with a kind eye and she shot him a grateful smile. 

“thank you, remus. as i was saying before i was so _rudely_ interrupted, the wolf eats the gran and puts on her clothes to try and trick little red riding hood. but red asks all these questions, right. ‘oh grandmother, what big teeth you have!’ and the wolf responds, ‘the better to eat you with!’ and swallows her too.”

“merlin,” peter muttered as james and sirius started howling about the strangeness of the story again. lily talked over them. 

“and all seems lost for a moment until the woodcutter bursts in the door, decapitates the wolf, and cuts him open so the grandmother and red can get out. and they all lived happily ever after.”

there was a beat of silence before james tipped his head back to stare at lily. 

“that’s it? that’s the end? that’s not a happy ending,” he complained and sirius agreed. 

“that was the most daft story i’ve ever heard in my _life,_ evans.”

“how could you _like_ that as a child?” 

“i still think he should’ve been a werewolf,” declared sirius and lily shook her head, glancing over at the two boys on the floor. 

she’s not sure why it happened then, what connected all the parts in her brain, but something about the way the firelight hit the scars on remus’ face made her pause. there was something there, a sadness and a hurt and a tiredness, and something vaguely… not quite human. 

severus had had his theories but she never listened to him because she’d _liked_ remus, wanted to be friends with him. they all came rushing back and everything clicked into her head as she stared at the scars on remus’ face. 

“werewolf,” she breathed and all four heads snapped up to look at her. remus immediately looked away, staring at the book still in his hands.

“evans,” sirius warned, low and dangerous, but she didn’t pay attention to him. james was frozen stiff, gaping at her from the floor, but she could only keep her eyes on remus. 

“remus,” she said uncertainly. “remus, are you a werewolf?”

peter broke first, laughing in a high pitched giggle that did nothing to make her less suspicious. 

“your furry little problem, james always says. he’s not talking about a rabbit, is he?”

james has started at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at her with carefully concealed horror. 

“lily,” he said but she could hear the panic threading through his voice. “you’re being ridiculous.”

remus’ head was still hanging down, eyes locked on the floor and every muscle tense. she should have stopped, she knows she should have, but she _couldn’t_. 

“am i, though?” she asked quietly and the boys’ silence was enough answer. still, remus shook his head once, sharp, then pushed to his feet and ran from the room. 

she was following him before she could think about it, sirius’ cross voice wrapping around her as she gave chase. 

“you just _had_ to pick the clever one, didn’t you james?”

“remus,” she yelled and climbed the stairs to the seventh year boys room. “remus, wait!”

the boys room was messy, clothes strewn everywhere and the smell of boy faint in the air, but she didn’t stop, not until she was standing at the bathroom door with her chest heaving. she hit at the solid oak with her fists, pounding as she yelled. 

“remus, come out. i want to talk to you.”

“go away, lily,” he called, voice muffled, but she didn’t listen. snatching her wand from where she’s stashed it in her hair, she pointed it at the lock and muttered a hasty _alohomora_ until the door swung open. 

remus jumped when she burst into the room, pressed up against the wall opposite and looking wary. 

“what are you doing?”

“you’re a werewolf,” she said and he flinched, dipping his chin down in a brief nod. “how long?”

“a long time.”

“before or after you came to hogwarts?”

a muscle worked in remus’ jaw. “before. long before.”

“you’ve been keeping it a secret the whole time you’ve been at school?”

“yes,” he said shortly, tersely. she ran her hands over her face. 

“bloody hell, remus.”

“i’m not— i’m not dangerous. i mean, i am, but i’m locked away and can’t hurt anyone. dumbledore’s made sure of that. you don’t have to be scared or anything.”

lily blinked. “you think i’m scared of you?”

remus blinked back. “you’re not?”

“why the fuck would i be scared of you?”

“because i—” he cut himself off, swallowing hard and trying again. “because i’m a werewolf, lily. a homicidal beast who… who _hunts_ people every month, lily. i could hurt people, _have_ hurt people. i could kill them in a second and not feel anything, i—”

“have you killed anyone?”

the muscle ticked again. “no.”

“have you hurt anyone?”

“unfortunately, yes.”

“did you regret hurting them?”

his gaze shifted over her shoulder to where she’s sure the other marauders are lurking, and then back to her. 

“yes.”

she took two steps forward until she was in front of him, looking him directly in the face. he flinched again and tried to press farther into the wall, put more distance between them two, but she refused to let him.

“then you aren’t a monster. i know you, remus lupin, and i promise you aren’t, couldn’t ever be.”

“i’m a werewolf.”

“i don’t care,” she snapped. “i don’t care that you’re a werewolf, or have some mysterious wizarding disease, or have a secret lovechild with mcgonagall. i don’t _care_ because you’re my friend. and you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

he stared at her for a long minute before one corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. 

“a lovechild with mcgonagall?”

“that’s what you’re getting from this conversation?”

“you wouldn’t care if i had a child? i appreciate the sentiment but i think i’d want you to care about my hypothetical baby, lily.”

“why does remus get the child with mcgonagall?” sirius complained from behind her and she threw up her hands. 

“oh my god, you marauders will be the death of me some day. i was _trying_ to make a point and you lot derailed it. you worst of all, lupin,” she growled, sticking her finger in remus’ face. he looked appropriately chastised but there was still laughter in his eyes. 

“thank you, lily. i do appreciate it,” he said quietly, sincerely. she wrapped her arms around his middle as answer, hugging him tight until he returned it. 

“now that we’ve hashed out all our secrets,” declared peter, “can we go to dinner? i’m fucking famished.”

james had caught her by the waist as they walked down to the great hall, drawing her close into his side. she tipped her head up to look at him, caught off guard by the fierce look in his eyes. 

“what?”

“i love you,” he said quietly. she blinked. “i love you so fucking much, lily evans.”

it nearly knocked her off her feet, this declaration, making her dizzy and warm and fizzy inside. 

“we’ve only been dating a month.”

“don’t care,” he told her fiercely, shaking his head. “don’t bloody care because i’m in love with you and i can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

the warmth was spreading through her chest, racing down her limbs and making her fingers tingle, taking her breath away. she loved this boy, merlin, she _loved_ him and he loved her back.”

“i love you too,” she said, breathless, and his smile could have lit up all of hogwarts. “so much.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” she laughed, catching his face in her hands. “you’re an idiot and i’m an idiot for it, but i’m mad about you, james.”

she was still laughing when he dipped down to kiss her, pressed into an alcove on the first floor with their mates catcalling in the background. 

 

the animagi had come later, when she became suspicious where the boys had gone every full moon. james had come back with bruises across his chest and stomach, big purpling ones that he’d asked her to fix and refused to tell her where they came from. 

it was their biggest fight that year, explosive. she hadn’t talked to him for a week because they were both too stubborn, had wondered if it was the breaking point of their relationship. 

he refused to talk and she refused to let him be silent and they had gone round and round in circles, until finally he caved. 

it was after the prefect meeting and the two of them were the only ones left in the classroom, working in silent anger, when he spoke. 

“it’s not only my secret, you understand that, right?”

“i know, but i’m your girlfriend and friends with your mates, and—”

“this isn’t like the map, lily. it’s not something that could get us detention for a few months but doesn’t really matter. it’s big, and only partially mine to tell.”

“i already know about remus. i’ll carry that secret to the grave, you _know_ i will.”

“it’s bigger than that,” he said sharply. “i mean, that’s a huge part of it, but it’s only a part, and not the only part that could make us lose our heads.”

“is that a metaphor?”

“depends on how long they sentence us in azkaban, if they found out.”

she took in a deep breath. “that bad?”

he glared at her then, the muscles in his neck standing out and his hands balled into fists. 

“do you think i’d fight with you if it was anything less than that?”

“maybe,” she muttered mutinously. “you’re quite stubborn.”

“are you sure you want to know?”

“ _yes_ ,” she said emphatically, even as doubts started to seep through her body. 

he nodded, backing up from her. “the boys decided it was alright for me to tell you. that’s huge, a huge amount of trust. they said since you know about remus already, might as well know about the rest of it too. but i’m warning you that if you let anything about this slip, sirius won’t hesitate to come after you. and i won’t… i won’t stop him, okay? not for this.”

she stared at him after that speech, mouth slightly agape. she knew the four of them were loyal, but this was beyond that, beyond average friendship. anxiety twisted in her belly. 

“you not murderers, are you?” she asked weakly and james snorted. 

“no, nothing like that.”

“then what—”

“i’m about to show you. lock the door and put a silencing charm on it.”

she did what he said as he shrugged out of his shirt, careful, the bruises still marbled on his skin. they were an ugly yellow now but she could still see the faint mark of a handprint against his side. it made her nauseous, looking at it. 

“what happened to you,” she asked, swallowing hard. 

“remus got a little too rough,” james said. “he forgets how strong he is when it’s the full moon.”

lily’s eyes snapped back to james’ face, horror crawling across her skin. 

“you’re with him when he changes?”

“yes,” he said. “that’s part of it.”

he hunched over before she could ask another question, his arms growing longer and his back flattening. she watched in half-fascination, half-terror as fur sprouted from his skin and ran down his body until he was covered, but it wasn’t his body anymore. 

“oh my god,” she breathed out, staring at the stag standing calmly where james had been. “you’re an animagus.”

the stag’s head dipped in a nod, watching her with intelligent eyes, _james’_ eyes.

“can you understand me?” another nod. “can i touch you?” she asked, her hand already outstretched toward him. he pushed his nose into her palm as answer, nuzzling at her fingers. she stroked between his eyes and marveled at the silky fur there. reaching up, she touched his antlers carefully, running the tips of her fingers over the velvet there and watched as his eyes slipped closed under her ministrations. 

“oh my god, james,” she repeated and he snorted in a way that was distinctly laugh-like. “this is amazing. an animagus, at _seventeen_. does anyone else know?”

james-the-stag shook his head, careful not to hit her with his antlers. 

“i’ve been the most massive prat,” she said and james snorted again. “oh my god, i should’ve just listened. i’m an idiot, i’m sorry.”

james nuzzled against her hand one last time and took a few steps backwards. she watched as he shrinks back into a boy, _her_ boy, with his smirk and glasses perched precariously on his nose. 

“i mean, yeah, you’ve been a massive prat. but i reckon i would’ve done the same thing if or positions had been switched, and worse besides, so can’t really blame you.”

“are sirius and peter animagi too?”

“yeah. dog and a rat, respectively.”

“a rat?”

james shrugged and bent to pick up his discarded shirt from the floor. “not his first choice, perhaps, but he has his uses.”

“sirius is a dog?”

“mmm, in all senses of the word,” james said dryly, voice muffled from inside his shirt. his glasses were askew and his hair was a mess when he popped his head out, and she crossed over to attempt to tame it with her fingers. he closed his eyes when she slid her fingers into his hair, looking so much like his stag at in that moment that she had to stifle a giggle. 

“i’m going to tell you this knowing it will go to your heads, but it’s true. you’re a marvel, james potter. a real fucking genius.”

“i am exactly that,” james said smugly. “how does it feel to be dating a genius?”

“enjoy it, because i’m never saying that again.”

“oh, i am enjoying it. you don’t have to worry about that.” 

she finished fixing his hair and moved to his glasses, straightening them on his face. his eyes were sharp watching her, filled with some sort of emotion she couldn’t place. 

“am i forgiven?” he asked suddenly and her hands stilled on his frames. “can we stop fighting now?”

“can you forgive me?” she said quietly and he smiled, a tiny thing that made her feel like she’s just drunk a cup of nice tea or done a warming charm on herself. 

“very little to forgive, my love,” he told her and those words released a week’s worth of stress from her shoulders. “now you know all my secrets. well, all the big ones.”

“do i now?”

“you do,” he confirmed and she touched the bridge of his nose gently. “i’ll have to kill you if you tell any of them.”

“i won’t tell anyone that you’re a giant stag with huge antlers and— oh. oh!”

his eyes shifted to something a little more wary, watching her. “what?”

“ _prongs_ , james? that’s why they call you that stupid nickname?”

“oi, it’s not stupid!”

“prongs cos you’re a deer—”

“ _stag_.”

“—and padfoot cos he’s a dog, and moony because remus is a bloody werewolf, and _wormtail?_ ”

james shrugged. “his rat tail looks like a worm.”

“you lot are not funny. idiots, all of you.”

“what happened to ‘james potter, you’re a fucking genius’?”

“i take it back, completely and fully. wormtail, honestly.”

“i think you can thank remus for that one, actually.”

lily glanced to the ceiling in mock prayer, hardly jumping when james took the opportunity to press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw. “i’m surrounded by idiots. i thought i could rely on remus to be smart, but apparently not.”

james smothered his laugh against her skin in a way that was very distracting, as much as she hated to admit it. they’d been angry at each other for so long, and it had been ages since they’d snogged. james clearly thought the same thing because he snuck his fingers under the hem of her shirt and trailed them up, up, up her stomach. she twitched when his fingers drifted over the front her bra and he grinned. 

“you’re the dumbest one of them all.”

“stil changing your tune. i’ve got a smart idea.”

she leaned back just enough to level a glance at him. “is your smart idea to fuck against this desk? because that would be decidedly not smart, considering we’re the head students and it’s a very public classroom. 

he tried to pout but it was dimmed slightly by his grin. “fucking would not be smart,” he agreed but his hands were still teasing at the wire of her bra. “i was thinking a cheeky snog, actually. maybe with some heavy petting.”

“idiot,” she reminded him and he hummed his agreement as he tugged on her shirt. 

“if it gets you topless sooner, then yes.”

 

it didn’t startle her when, a month later, they practiced patronuses in defence and a doe flew out from the tip of her wand, steady and bright and so familiar. 

james’ face nearly broke in half from smiling too widely, and hers did too. 

//

they can’t find the spy and it’s killing them, quite literally. their already thin ranks thin out even more because they keep getting thwarted at every turn. james escapes with his life too many times to count on mission until even sirius tells him to sit out for a while. lily sighs in relief when james agrees, lets her heart settle for what seems like the first time in months. 

“that fucking spy,” james bites out, absentmindedly letting smoke flow from his wand. harry tries to catch it in his hands and squeals, laughing to himself. “i don’t understand who would _do_ that, sell us out to you-know-who.” 

“i know,” lily says miserably with her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. “it’s mental. i trust everyone in the order with my _life._ ” 

james’ wand lets out a green puff of smoke, then a pink. “sirius thinks it’s remus,” he says and it’s like a fist is squeezing around lily’s heart. 

“what?” 

“sirius thinks the spy is remus. he’s not the only one.” 

“i don’t-- how could he _think_ that?” 

“reckons you-know-who came to remus with an offer he couldn’t refuse. reckons he tempted him over with the werewolf thing.” 

“oh my god,” lily mumbles, dropping her head into her arms. “he can’t think that. he _knows_ remus, has known him for _years._ ” 

“he’s not the only one,” james says blankly and she snaps up to look at him. 

“james fleamont potter, not you _too._ ” 

james sighs, ruffling his hair with a hand and the gesture is so familiar it almost makes her smile. “i don’t _want_ to think it but i don’t know what else to think. it makes sense, in some warped, awful way.” 

“remus, the boy who carries sweets around in his cardigan pockets and forgets about them, the one who cried in second year when that bird died in transfiguration, the one who has been your best friend since you were eleven? that remus?” 

“i don’t know, i don’t fucking know,” james snaps at her. “who else, then? moody? sirius? figg? doge? who?” 

“none of them have any more reason to be the spy--” 

“but remus is a werewolf, lily. i know you don’t like the prejudice against him but there’s a… a _reason_ people have that prejudice, okay? god, i hate myself for saying it out loud, i _do_ , but it’s true.” 

“fucking hell.” 

“dumbledore’s sending him away.” 

“what?” lily asks, her voice cracking across the air like lightning. harry starts, looking at her uneasily. james sighs again. 

“dumbledore wants him to go visit the werewolf communities in the north. see if they’ll join our side if remus can talk them into it. it would be huge, that many more wizards against you-know-who. it could change the tide.” 

“so dumbledore sent remus.” 

“yeah. and if it keeps him away from the order, then…” 

“when does he leave?” 

james winces, hand in his hair, and dread starts to pool in lily’s stomach. “two weeks ago.” 

“he left two weeks ago and you didn’t tell me?” 

“i just found out yesterday, i swear. sirius and peter didn’t even know.” 

“how’d you find out?” 

he shrugs a shoulder. “the full moon is next week, remember? i was going to bring him the wolfsbane you brewed, just in case, and i hadn’t heard from him for a while. seems like dumbledore sent him away secretly.”

“without saying goodbye? what if something happens?” 

“i don’t know. i don’t like it either.” 

“bastard,” she hisses under her breath and james shoots her a warning look, jerking his head towards harry. she bites down on her lip, worries it with her teeth. “sometimes i’d quite like to punch him.” 

“remus or dumbledore?” he asks, quirking a smile, and lily wrinkles her nose back at him. 

“you, actually.” 

“mmm, i thought we were over that stage of flirting.” 

“it’s definitely not flirting,” she deadpans and catches harry up in her arms when he toddles over. he shows her a toy of his, a wooden block, and she coos over it appropriately, covering his face in kisses. he giggles and squirms, sliding off her lap to go demand more magic tricks from james instead. james obliges and harry claps his pudgy hands in delight. 

she watches them for a while, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach that threatens to take over her, before rising to make supper. 

 

dumbledore comes to visit them a week into september. he looks almost unreal sitting in their little front room, his beard curling at his waist and harry playing gently at his feet. he tells them quietly about a prophecy that was made, one that seems to be about their son, and lily’s heart feels like it’s going to freeze. 

“but we haven’t defied voldemort three times,” james protests, his hand in his hair, but dumbledore raises a finger. 

“ah, but you have. the first when you faced him when you were eighteen, the second when he offered you to join them, and the third when james was kidnapped and lily was attacked.” 

“that can’t count, though,” says lily, head spinning. “we weren’t together then, we faced him separately. it can’t count.” 

“it is not me who decides what the prophecy describes. indeed, it is voldemort who has chosen and he believes it is you. or, more accurately, young harry.” 

lily starts to cry, can’t help it, because her baby is just a year and half old old and is already being targeted by voldemort. “it’s a death notice, then?” she says roughly and her voice cracks. james stiffens beside her. “are we just waiting for voldemort to come and slaughter our child?” 

“no, of course not.” 

“then _what_ are we going to _do?_ ” 

dumbledore pauses, looks down as harry knocks something over. “there are precautions we can take. a fidelius charm, of course.” 

“will we have to move again?” 

“no, i don’t believe so. not many people know you are here.” 

“how did you-know-who find out?” james asks suddenly, eyes locked on dumbledore. “who told him?” 

“i do not know who the spy is, if that is what you’re asking.” 

“it’s not. i’m asking about who told voldemort?” 

dumbledore looks at james for a long time, deliberating, before dipping his chin down slightly. “severus snape overheard.” 

james is perfectly still for a second but lily can feel the anger running just under his skin, can feel the fury building in his body. his lip curls into a grimace and his hands are clenching and unclenching into fists. he looks like he’ll startle if she tries to touch him.

“i’m going to kill him,” he snarls. “the prick, i’m going to murder him.” 

“now, mr potter,” dumbledore says lightly,“that would be counterintuitive and not at all very smart. i realise old prejudices run deep but mr snape seemingly has had a change of heart after hearing the prophecy.” 

“bullshit. fucking bullshit.” 

“one does strange things for love,” says dumbledore, standing and she jumps at what he is saying. 

“he switched sides because he’s in _love_ with me?”

“he was not happy voldemort has chosen to go after you, no.” 

“he shouldn’t have told voldemort about the prophecy, if he didn’t want lily to be killed,” sneers james and dumbledore adjusts his hat. 

“i am not trying to make excuses for his behaviour; he has undoubtedly done some very cruel and foolhardy things. however, he did not know when he passed on the prophecy that it would implicate your son.” 

“why?” lily asks desperately. “why harry and why us?” 

dumbledore’s eyes soften as he looks at her, go slightly sad. “i have my suspicious, but they are no more than an old man’s musings. perhaps, in time, we will be able to understand. and with that, i must leave you. i am truly sorry about the circumstances that brought me here today. please, think about who you would like as secret keeper and i will be here shortly to assist in placing the fidelius charm on your house.” 

he walks out of the house before either of them can say a proper goodbye, just a closing of the door and he’s disappeared. they sit there on the sofa as the afternoon light slides into evening, lost in their own faults and sick to their stomachs. 

“james,” she says when the hurt is too much for her to bear quietly again. “what are we going to do?” 

he turns to kiss her head, wrapping his arm around her tugging her into his side. “i don’t know, lily. we’ll do whatever we have to survive, i suppose.”

“he’s going to come for harry.” 

“we won’t let him. somehow we’ll stop him. we won’t ever let him get close to harry, i promise.” 

 

the world moves on as normal, even as their world is knocked off its axis. harry needs to be fed and changed and played with. lily puts harry between them in the bed because she cannot imagine him so far away and does not remember the last night she slept peacefully. sirius takes up residence in their third bedroom for the time being. they try to convince him otherwise but he does not listen to arguments. 

“until the safety spells are in place, i won’t leave,” he says, jaw squared, and lily puts her hand on his cheek.

“love you so much,” she tells him. 

 

he is their obvious choice for secret keeper. he nods when they ask, sending them a dirty look. 

“i thought that was assumed. or did you have someone better in mind?” 

“no,” says james, mussing at his hair. “just you.” 

 

except, three days later sirius comes to them with a half-crazed look. 

“that’s just it, you see. i’m the obvious choice.” 

“what are you talking about, padfoot?” 

“listen, prongs. everyone and their brother knows we’d die for each other. they’ll come after me first and i wouldn’t tell but what _if._ ” 

“what if what?” lily asks, narrowing her eyes at him over harry’s head. harry burps a little. 

“wouldn’t it be safer if it was someone else? if it was someone they didn’t expect, wouldn’t think to go through?” 

“who?” james asks but lily can see the inkling of an idea already on his face. sirius knows too and he grins in triumph. 

“peter.” 

“peter?” 

“he can be trusted but he’s the one people will least expect.”

“i’m not sure,” lily says, the tiniest bit doubtfully, but james is nodding. 

“no, lily, he’s right. he’s right about this.”

“peter?” she asks and the two boys exchange a glance. 

“peter,” confirms james. “he’ll be our secret keeper.”

the spell’s put in place, weighing heavily behind peter’s lips. 

 

lily takes to the isolation better than james does; she is used to it, and it is better with james and harry here. besides, there are no cliffs, no ocean to drown in, just endless fields of wildflowers. 

the restrictions grate at james. he was never one for rules and limitations, and he grits his teeth against having to stay in their little house day upon day upon bloody day. 

he transforms into a stag and goes bounding around the woods nearby and lily lets him go, knows he needs the freedom more than cautionary words. she presses her lips together to stop her disapproval. 

she counts the days but it’s almost pointless when there’s nothing to count _towards,_ just an endless march of days spent within their stupid cottage, alone and terrified and waiting for voldemort to come and find them.

 

“we’re out of milk,” lily says, frowning at the barren refrigerator. “what are we going to do?” 

james is on his back on the floor in the front room, throwing a snitch up in the air and catching it. "i'll go get some.” 

“james, no.” 

he stands up in one fluid motion, lying to sitting to on his feet in an instant, and looks at her. “why not?” 

“because we’re in hiding." 

“we need milk,” he says and there’s a tick in his cheek. “harry needs it for his supper and the supplies aren’t coming for a few days.” 

“you cannot just _leave_ and go down to the shops for some milk.” 

"why not?” he asks again and she throws her hands up. 

“because we’re being hunted down by a fucking psychopath and we’re stuck in this cottage for god knows how long and you can’t just leave to go buy some fucking milk.” 

“i’ll go mental if i have to stay in here another hour,” he tells her and she feels like screaming. “i can’t take it anymore, it’s too much—“ 

“we’ve only been in hiding for two months! how are you going to handle it after another month, six months, a year?” he doesn’t answer but the tick in his jaw gets more pronounced. “going out is a fucking stupid idea, and you know it." 

“i’ll go as a stag. no one will see me.” 

she really does scream then, like a child who can’t get her way but she can’t help herself. “you can’t leave! people could be watching—“ 

“i’ll be a fucking stag! no one will know it’s me!” 

“yes, they will! you could die, all because you couldn’t survive a week in hiding. you’re supposed to be able to handle this, you’re an adult, and you need to stay.“

“i don’t _need—”_

“be careful how you finish that sentence, james,” she snaps and he growls in frustration, cheeks pink with anger. 

“it doesn’t matter, lily. it doesn’t fucking matter." 

she stares at him, so tightly wound with fury and anger and cabin fever that she thinks she might explode. “what doesn't fucking matter? our son? me? the fact that voldemort has a fucking kill order out on all of our heads? what part of that doesn’t fucking matter?” 

“the part where you tell me what to do like i’m the child!” 

“if you’d stop _acting_ like a child, then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one." 

“oh my god,” he says, fingers clenching and unclenching into fists. “you’re fucking _impossible._ just let me be, alright? i’m going to get the fucking milk and i don’t fucking care what you think about it.” 

he stomps off towards the door and slams it shut, rattling the photos in their frames and leaving her ears ringing. she glares at the space he vacated, glares so fiercely it’s a wonder there aren’t scorch marks in the wall. 

she’s _right_. she knows she is and he’s just being stupid. of all the people in the world, she had to marry the most pigheaded one of them all. 

“imbecile,” she spits and turns on her heel. 

 

she realises later that he’d left the cloak in his hurry and the anger’s dulled by worry; it’s not the only protection he has up his sleeve but it is the best one and she almost feels like he’s naked without it. she folds it up and puts it on his side of the bed, hoping he’ll come back to get it.

 

the door startles open and she glances up from playing with harry, hopeful, but it’s just sirius, stamping his feet on the ground and unwrapping his scarf. 

“where’s prongs?” he asks, pulling out a bag, hands it to harry who shrieks in delight.

“out,” she says curtly and his eyebrows fly up. “what’s that you’re giving him?” 

“candy,” he answers. “for halloween. trick or treat n’all that. james went out?” 

“your stubborn idiot of a best friend decided he was too stir crazy to stay in the cottage and went out to get a litre of fucking milk.” 

sirius’ mouth thins out into a line. “he _what_?”

“i know,” she answers, grim. “that’s what i said.” 

“did you fight about it?” 

“of course we fought about it. he’s supposed to be in hiding and he’s off traipsing through godric’s hollow because he doesn’t know how to stay in one place for any amount of time.”

“you’re angry.” 

lily points a finger at him. “stop making stupid comments and i won’t hex you halfway to france, alright?” 

he raises his hands in surrender and turns back to the coat rack to hang up his coat. 

“lily,” he says peculiarly. “why is remus outside?” 

she frowns. “what?”

he wordlessly points out the window. there’s a figure standing there, squinting at the place their house should be. it's hard to see in the half-gloom but she'd recognise him anywhere.

“remus,” she breathes and turns to sirius. “i don’t know. i thought he was in the north with the werewolves.”

he stares out for a long minute before a myriad of emotions shutter across his face, too many emotions in his voice for lily to catch them all. “he knows where you live.” he makes to open the door but lily jumps up and grabs his arm, pull him back.

“of course he knows, he’s been here before. sirius, what’s wrong?”

“let me go, evans,” he snaps and tries to shake her off. “let me _go,_ i’m going to _murder_ the bastard.”

“what? sirius you’re not making sense and it’s scaring me.”

sirius breaks free but dives for his wand instead of the door, conjures up a patronus. 

“wormy, you alright? respond immediately, padfoot.” 

the dog bounds away and they wait for a long minute. remus is still outside, squinting at their house and looking increasingly agitated. lily chews on her thumbnail and watches sirius watch remus. 

“padfoot,” she says quietly. “what are you thinking?”

“i’m thinking that we might have just found our spy,” he says grimly and nods at the figure outside. “i’d bet he sold you out, convinced peter to give you away.”

“he didn’t know peter—”

“he does. james told him.”

it shouldn’t surprise her but it does. of course james told remus, one of his best friends. of course he did, because he still trusts remus until remus proves him wrong. 

“you don’t know that he’s he spy.”

sirius tilts his head to cock an eye at her. “who else could it be?”

“i don’t know, but—“ she stops mid sentence, all air suddenly gone from her body. “sirius,” lily chokes out. he frowns, shifts his eyes down the street, and freezes. 

voldemort is there, striding down their street. he’s not hurrying, just walking, and the ease which he walks towards their house sends fear pouring through her veins, pulsing through her body. 

remus realises what’s happening a half-second after they do, and he throws the cottage a desperate look before apparating away.

“bastard,” sirius bites out and explodes into action, shoving lily towards harry and whipping out his wand in one movement. “take harry and run! i’ll be there in a minute.” 

“run _where_?” she shouts, snatching harry up. sirius doesn’t answer, just takes her by the arm and hauls her upstairs, taking the stairs by twos and nearly making her stumble. they run through the house and skid into the bedroom when they hear the front door burst open. dread and coldness and fear rolls across the floor and makes her steps heavy.

“what are going to do?” she asks wildly. harry’s wailing, pulling on her hair and sobbing, and she shushes him absentmindedly as she watches sirius. sirius doesn’t bother answering, grabs the cloak in one hand and lily in the other, hurtling towards the window. lily shrieks as they burst through and they’re in the air, falling. 

they’re going to die. remus ratted them out and voldemort is in their house and james is gone and she is falling to the ground with harry in her arms and they are going to _die._

the ground rushes up to greet them and she closes her eyes, clutching harry as tight as she can and her brain in an endless cycle of _jamesharryjamesharrymyboysiloveyousomuchjamesharry._

sirius yells something she can’t hear, twisting her arm until it’s painful. she glances up just as the blackness envelops her, looks at voldemort’s sneering face until it fades away. 

 

they land on the ground, hard, and lily’s legs buckle underneath her, sending her tumbling down. harry is howling in a way that she knows means he’s furious, face red as a beetroot and tiny hands in fists. she pats at his back in a useless attempt to get him quiet but he doesn’t calm down until sirius produces a sweet, handing it to him. harry sniffles and takes it, gnaws on the wrapper with a grumpy expression, but he’s mercifully quiet. 

“where are we?” lily asks shakily and sirius reaches down to help her up. 

“the first safe place i could think of,” he replies. they’re in a middle of a field and she sends him a look. “we needed to get out of there.” 

“james,” she says, taking in a breath. “we have to tell james.” 

sirius has his wand out before she’s done talking, casting a patronus and speaking to it in low tones, too quiet for her to hear over harry’s noises. 

“what if he got caught? what if he came home and you-know-who is still there?" 

“he’s smart, lily. he’ll survive it, whatever’s happening. if he can find us, he will.” 

“god,” she says, her voice catching on a sob. “i can’t believe that remus— fuck.” 

“the fucking bastard,” sirius swears and it's so full of anger that she startles. “if there was any doubt before that he was the spy it’s gone now, disappeared as soon as he led fucking _voldemort_ to our house.” 

“how'd he do it? peter was the secret keeper, he shouldn't have been able—” she inhales sharply as her brain catches up with what she’s saying. “he killed him.” 

“what?” 

“he must’ve killed peter. that’s the way the charm works, when the secret keeper dies, everyone who knows about the secret’s existence becomes the keeper, _oh my god.”_

sirius is shaking with anger and she is too, head whirling with everything that’s happened. she wants to sit down right there, just plop on the ground with harry on her lap, and _think_ it through, try to rationalize it all. 

sirius must have the same idea because he takes her hand, gently this time, and nods to the distance. 

“c’mon,” he says. “let’s get to safety and then we can figure it all out.” 

sirius isn’t known for his rationality, his level-headedness, but he’s right. safety first, _harry_ first, and then they can puzzle it out. she stumbles into step beside him, shifting harry onto her hip and concentrating on putting her feet on solid ground.

it takes a few minutes, but a house soon comes into view on the horizon, shining with a muted sort of light. sirius doesn’t break stride, just keeps walking towards it with determination. 

“where are we going?” she asks tiredly. “whose house is this?” 

the door swings open before he can answer and a familiar figure comes out. lily sucks in a breath and drops sirius’ hand, takes two big steps away from him and brings up her wand. 

“sirius,” she snarls, tightening her grip on harry. “you brought us to _bellatrix fucking lestrange?_ ” 

“i didn’t.” 

“first remus, now you? i trusted you, _james_ trusted you.” 

“i’m not bellatrix,” bellatrix interrupts, shifting into the light. 

“lily, meet my favourite cousin, andromeda,” says sirius, giving the woman an unimpressed look that she mirrors. 

squinting, lily can see the slight differences between bellatrix and andromeda. andromeda’s hair is lighter, softer, and her features are too. she’s still got the haughty black look about her but it’s less spiteful, more like sirius. 

the two cousins don’t hug, don’t show any affection besides their mouths quirking up a bit. andromeda shifts and pushes the door open, indicating for them to go through. sirius steps inside the house without any trepidation; lily follows at a much more careful pace. 

the house is warm, comfortable. it’s also immaculate, but lily spies a basket of toys in the corner with dolls tossed messily inside. she hugs harry tighter and kisses his forehead. 

andromeda leads them to the front room and tells them to sit. “i’m going to put the kettle on. merlin knows we need it for this conversation.” she disappears and lily sits hesitantly next to sirius on the imposing sofa, settles harry into her lap. 

“your _cousin?_ ”

“it’s the only place i could think of where remus wouldn’t know where to look.” 

“she’s a black,” lily says carefully, quietly. “how do we know she’s not loyal like her sister?” 

sirius laughs, a dark, humorless sound, and hands harry another sweet. she’d yell at him if it were any other time, but she barely notices now. 

“she’s not loyal to you-know-who, i swear.” 

“how do you know/“ 

“i just do,” sirius snaps and lily can feel herself getting angry again, mixing with tiredness so she feels like a shaken bottle about to explode. 

“we thought remus wasn’t loyal and look where that got us.” 

“i am not a supporter of you-know-who, mrs potter,” andromeda says calmly, coming into the room with a tray floating beside her. she pours out a cup for lily. “unlike my family, i have no desire for the nonsense of blood purity. it is a foul, exclusive thing, and voldemort is a despicable excuse for a wizard.” 

“she was cut off from the family,” sirius tells her quietly. “cut off because she married a muggleborn.” 

“everyone was furious. my mother shouted at me for hours when she found out we were engaged.” andromeda’s face twists into a scowl and she shakes her head. “bella tried to stun ted, make him rethink the decision.” 

“it didn’t work,” lily says, lilting the end into a question. 

there’s a crash and andromeda tilts her head towards the sound, smiling the tiniest bit. “no, it did not.” 

“mama! mama, look how many sweets we got from the muggles down the road!” a voice shouts and a girl skids into the room, tripping on her robes and nearly going flying. she stops in front of lily and stares. lily stares back at a perfect imitation of princess leia. 

“sirius!” the girl says and barrels into sirius’ arms with no warning, hugging him enthusiastically around the neck. sirius doesn’t finch, catches her and hugs her back, managing a smile. 

the man who came in with leia takes in them both, frowning, and goes to stand behind andromeda. 

“dromeda, dear,” he says carefully, watching them. “i didn’t know we were having visitors tonight.”

lily hugs harry closer. sirius untangles himself from the bear hug and looks up at the man.

“it was an emergency, ted. first place i could think of that thgey wouldn’t.”

“who wouldn’t?”

“you-know-who,” answers sirius and ted’s frown gets deeper. his hands flex on andromeda’s shoulder. 

“we didn’t want anything to do with the order, or you-know-who.”

“i know. but he was trying to kill harry and we needed somewhere safe.”

ted shifts his eyes so he’s looking at lily alone, like he’s thinking, and she stares back. 

“i’m sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn’t know what else to do. our friend, he betray—” her voice catches and she has to clear her throat to get the words out. “he betrayed us and led voldemort to our home.”

“and now you’ve led him to ours.”

“ted,” andromeda says sharply. “sirius is family, and i’m not about to turn out the precious little i have left. our house is safe and neither bella nor cissy will think to look here, nor will anyone else. they have a _child_. let them stay.”

he looks down at his wife and then at them, harry in lily’s lap and his daughter in sirius’. “fine,” he barks out, all the fight leeching from his body. “they can stay.”

andromeda nods and motions at the girl. “now, nymphadora. introduce yourself to our guests and then you can show us what you got.”

“my name’s nymphadora tonks and i hate that name and i’m six and three quarters and pink is my favourite colour,” she announces. 

“nice to meet you, nymphadora,” says lily, holds out a hand for her to shake. nymphadora gives her a withering look. 

“nobody calls me nymphadora, ‘cept mummy and da. i like tonks.”

“dora,” andromeda scolds but lily smiles, charmed.

“my mistake. nice to meet you, _tonks,”_ she says and tonks finally shakes her hand, looking pleased. “my name is lily, and my favourite colour is green. this is harry. he’s one and a half.”

“pleased to meet you. are you married to sirius?”

sirius chokes beside her and lily stifles a laugh. 

“no, he’s my brother.”

tonks narrows her eyes at her. “you don’t look like regulus. can you change too?”

“sirius isn’t my real brother, he’s my _chosen_ brother,” explains lily and tonks seems to accept this, the buns around her ears wobbling as she nods. “he’s a very good friend of mine, almost like family.”

“does that make me your cousin too?”

lily does laugh at that, shifting harry on her lap so her leg doesn’t get numb. he’s almost asleep, dozing against her shoulder, and his sleepy toddler weight is getting heavy. 

“we can be cousins, if you’d like.”

“i’d like that,” tonks tells her, beaming, and andromeda smiles. 

“alright, nymphadora. go get ready for bed, and then you can have a sweet.”

“two sweets?” nymphadora asks hopefully.

“no, just one.”

“what if i share?” 

ted laughs, catching her in his hand and tickling her belly, making her dissolve into giggles. 

“you can have two if you listen to your mother and go change. how’s that for a deal.”

“can i have three?” 

he digs his fingers in her side once more and let’s her loose, shaking his head. “don’t push your luck, dora.”

she frowns at the nickname but darts off quickly, already in the process of stripping her clothes. 

“she’s bigger,” sirius says and his voice is strange. “i know it’s been a while, but she’s huge.” 

“it’s been two years, sirius. children grow,” andromeda says softly and lily kisses the top of harry’s sweet head, presses her lips there for just a second too long. 

“what’s your name, then?” asks ted and she blinks. 

“oh, um. lily. lily potter.” 

she can see understanding wash over his face before a scowl breaks through. “where’s james, then?” 

“i don’t know,” she says, looking at sirius out of the corner of her eye and curling her fingers against the fear that’s creeping in. “he left and i don’t know where he’s gone.” 

“we sent a patronus but he hasn’t answered,” sirius says, frowning. 

“god, it was so stupid. everything was so stupid.” 

she’s wiping at her eyes when tonks comes tumbling in the room again. she’s in a lace nightie and her hair’s loose down her back, a startling shade of bubblegum pink. 

“dora,” says andromeda. “we’ve talked about the pink.” 

tonks heaves a long-suffering sigh and as she does, lily watches brown rush from the roots of tonks’ hair down to the ends, chasing the pink away. she blinks. 

“dora’s an metamorphagus,” ted says helpfully and his face has softened now, not so much disdain in his gaze as he looks at them. “she can change her appearance at will.” 

lily looks at tonks again and finds a pig snout in place of a nose. tonks waggles her eyebrows.

“wanna see my favorite?” 

lily nods and tonks’ hair grows pink again, shoots into her head so it’s short and shaggy. her nose gets longer until it’s a tiny elephant trunk dangling off her face. she’s grinning. 

“nymphadora!” 

“i was just showing lily,” tonks says, hastily changing back to what lily assumes is her normal state. andromeda glares but tonks just smiles and shoves half of a candy bar in her mouth. 

 

the room andromeda shows lily is small but comfortable. there’s enough space for a crib, which is shoved in one corner, and an empty desk of drawers. 

“you can unpack anything you have in there.” 

“i don’t have any clothes,” lily says quietly. “for me or for harry. no nappies either. none of his things— i left them all—”

“hush, lily. that won’t be a problem. i’ll hunt down something for you both to sleep in tonight and tomorrow we’ll transfigure some old things i have of dora’s. for tonight, just rest.” 

lily nods, on the verge of tears again, and andromeda disappears down the hall. she puts harry in the middle of the bed and carefully tugs him out of the dirty shirt he’s got on. it’s covered in sweat and grime from the day, but she whispers a few vanishing charms to get the worst of it. andromeda hands her two old, soft shirts and waves goodnight, closing the door after her. 

she thinks about putting harry to sleep in the crib but can’t quite stomach the thought of letting him out of arm’s reach, not after tonight. she transfigures a book into another pillow instead, puts it against the wall and him against the pillow and curves her body around him, nose pressed to his head. 

 

sirius leaves the next day with the cloak over his arm, even though she begs him not to go. 

“i have to,” he says, mouth set. “i have to see if james is there.” 

“it’s dangerous.” 

“i’ll be careful.” 

she yanks on his shoulder until he looks at her straight in the face. “listen to me, black,” she hisses. “if there is the slightest inkling of danger, you get out of there. i can’t lose all my boys at once. i just can’t.” 

sirius nods, kisses her forehead and pulls her into a hug. “i’ll be as cautious as i can be.” 

“good.” 

“inkling, evans?” 

“shut up,” she mutters into his robes, furiously praying this won’t be the last time she sees him. “bring me back my husband.” 

he gives her a salute and steps out of the house, making the trek to a place beyond the borders of the protective spells in place. lily watches him go with her heart in her throat. 

“lily,” tonks asks loudly from the floor, handing harry a bear for him to throw across the room. lily turns and forces a smile. 

“‘yes, pet?” 

“if you’re my cousin, does that make harry my niece?” 

lily snorts in spite of herself. “no, a niece is a girl.” 

“oh,” replies tonks, frowning. “is he my grandson?” 

“i don’t know what he’d be,” lily tells her and sits next to them on the floor. harry shows her the bear he’s got in his fist, babbling happily, and she pulls him onto her lap. “maybe your cousin too?” 

“but you’re my cousin.” 

“a different sort of cousin, love. a second cousin.” it’s a guess, a wild one, but tonks seems to approve. 

“can he say my name?” 

“i don’t know. we could try. harry, love, look at mama. can you say ‘tonks’?” harry looks at her and then at tonks, mouth firmly closed. “say ‘tonks’.” 

“ta,” harry says after a second’s thought, reaching for the doll that’s in tonks’ hand. she frowns. 

“that’s not my name.” 

“he’s a baby. he can’t say things right sometimes.” 

“ta,” harry insists, whining when he can’t get the doll. lily picks up a ball instead and hands it to him. 

“there, pet. can you say ‘ball’? ‘ball’.” 

“ball,” he says obediently and throws the ball, shrieking in delight. tonks giggles and brings it back, laughing when harry throws it again. 

lily watches them play with a smile on her face and the taste of regret in the back of her mouth.

 

sirius us gone for forty eight hours, long enough for lily to start desperately worrying. it feels like her life has been a perpetual waiting game: waiting for someone to come home, waiting to hear back from a loved one, waiting for a shot of luck, waiting for the best to happen, waiting for the worst.

she swears that when this whole blasted war is over, she’s never going to wait on anything again. 

 

he comes back with a rucksack, but otherwise empty handed. he’s got an angry look on his face, one that makes lily’s stomach twist in fear, and bruises up his arms. 

everyone else is asleep when he walks in; she’s been keeping watch for him late at night because she can’t sleep anyway. she’s glad she’s the only one up because sirius looks like he’s about to murder someone. she shoves him down in a chair before he can talk and hands him a cup of very strong, very sweet tea. 

“drink that before you say a thing,” she tells him because she thinks he might break if he has to talk first. he does, and grimaces. 

“did you put six spoons of sugar in this?”

“just about,” she mutters. “you look like you need it.”

“probably,” he agrees and takes another sip. “do you have anything alcoholic for this?”

“sadly, no.”

“shame.” wrapping his hands around the mug, he stares into the contents. “your house is fucking gone.”

“what?”

“completely burned to the ground. leveled flat.”

lily’s stomach twists, making the tea slosh uncomfortably. “everything’s gone?”

“mostly, yeah. rescued a few things—” he reaches into the rucksack and pulls out a small pile, a signed stuffed dog, james’ old jumper, the picture of james and harry asleep on the sofa. she touches her fingers to james’ face. 

“did you find him?” she asks lowly but she already knows the answer, knows what sirius is going to say. 

“no. hung around the ruins for three days hoping he’d show his face. no response from him, or from peter either.”

she runs her finger along the edge of the photograph, fidgets with the cuff of the jumper. “what does… what does that mean?”

“dunno. he could be safe and hiding like we are.”

“where would he go?” she says and her voice cracks on the last syllable. sirius taps on his mug. 

“dunno,” he repeats dully. “i truly don’t know where’d he run to. my flat, maybe, but he hasn’t been there. i checked.”

“god. what if he’s dead? or captured by death eaters? he can’t be dead, sirius. he can’t.”

james can’t die, not when he was so bright and alive yesterday. he can’t be dead, not when he was the only thing tethering her to reality these days. he can’t be dead, not when he almost died two years ago and she almost died because of it. 

“i know, lily. he’s smart, though. he’ll put up a fight.”

“don’t say that,” she says and buries her face in her hands. “what the fuck are we going to do?”

“hide out here until we can think of something better to do.”

“should we contact dumbledore?”

“no,” sirius says and it comes out too loud, too explosive. “no, we can’t.”

lily stares. “why not?”

“because. we know remus is the spy but dumbledore doesn’t. he trusts remus still.”

“then we tell him about remus.”

“no, lily. there could be others, another spy. voldemort is coming for you and your fidelius charm is down. this is the safest thing to do, keep yourself away from everyone. you can stay here, no one will think you’re here, until something changes.”

she looks at him, takes in the set to his mouth and the ragged look to eyes. he’s right, she realizes, as much as she hates to admit it. she nods once, jerkily. 

“what about you?”

“what about me?” he parrots, careful, and hides behind his mug. she frowns. 

“what are you going to do? are you going to stay with us?”

“no,” he says and she knew it was coming. it still lands heavily on her ears, makes her anxiety rise. “i can’t. i’ve got to fight this, see if i can change anything. for james, and for harry. for you.”

“it’s dangerous.”

“i’ll be careful,” he promises and she manages a small smile. 

“that’s impossible for you. you don’t have a careful bone in your body.”

he grunts, takes a drink and sets his cup down. she reaches for his hand, holds it tight to remind herself that she’s not alone here, not all by herself, not as much as she feels. 

“when is this going to end?” she says desperately. “when will this bloody war ever end?”

“when it ends,” sirius tells her, grim. “you sure you don’t have any fucking alcohol?”

 

he leaves again, because the order needs him, and he promise to bring james right away as soon as he shows his face. he swears it to her. 

“as soon as i see his speccy mug,” he says and the joke almost sounds genuine. lily forces a laugh, hugs herself and harry, and kisses his cheek. 

“stay safe, padfoot,” she says quietly. “i can’t lose you too.” not now, not after she’s lost everyone else. he nods, squeezing her arm briefly. wiping at her eyes, she shuffled harry, coaching him to wave. he flaps a hand in sirius’ direction and sirius waves back, blowing her a cheeky kiss. 

“see you, potter,” he says and disappears out the door yet again.

harry squirms in her arms, wanting to be let down, and she puts him on the floor. he toddles off straight for the ball on the ground, trying to kick it and missing completely.

“maybe he’ll end up being a footballer, james,” she says to herself as harry succeeds in kicking the ball a centimetre. “would you be okay with that?”

“okay with what?” andromeda says, coming into the room and tucking her hair behind her ears. lily blushes a tiny bit. 

“uh, nothing.”

andromeda looks at her strangely but doesn’t press it, turns back to the stove. “would you mind helping me with dinner?”

“sure,” says lily because her hands need something to do. her mind needs something to focus on. andromeda nods and points out the onions to dice, the carrots to chop. lily gets to work as andromeda waves her wand and the kitchen stands to attention. a pot on the stove fills with water and starts to heat, the oven warms up, and the potatoes come flying out of the cupboard. 

it’s warm in the kitchen with everything going, and andromeda turns on the radio as she works so they don’t have to talk much. lily chops and andromeda mixes and dinner is done far too fast for lily’s liking. 

ted wanders in when andromeda’s putting the meal out on the table, tonks right behind him and harry toddling in last. lily and andromeda laugh at the sight, andromeda shaking her head. 

“always right on time,” she teases, pressing a brief kiss to ted’s mouth before he sits. “if only for dinner.” he laughs. 

lily helps harry into a high chair and drops chopped veggies on his tray for him to eat. he picks them up meticulously with two fingers and shoves his whole fist in his mouth. she sits next to him and picks at her food, nudges her potatoes with a fork and eats half before it makes her feel sick. 

“i’ll wash up,” she murmurs and picks up the plates from the table. there are ways of doing the dishes with magic, easy ones, but lily stands at the sink and scrubs at them instead. the water’s nearly scalding and it pricks at her hands but she still scrubs and soaks and rinses. 

ted comes up next to her after a few minutes and just watches for a second. “andromeda could teach you the spells for that.” 

“i know,” lily says and leans into pan she’s washing. there’s a stubborn amount of residue around the edges. “i want to do it this way.” 

“the muggle way.” 

she looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “yes.” 

“no magic?” 

“that’s generally what the muggle way means.” 

he snorts and picks up a towel, reaches for the stack of dishes piled on the countertop. without another word, he dries it off and puts it away in the cupboard. 

they finish in silence, just the sound of running water and the clanking of plates and the radio still playing softly in the background. something shifts then, something in their tentative peace, and lily wonders if they just became friends. 

 

andromeda knows a lot of household spells, a _lot_ of them. she swishes her wand and the plates are sparkling, the socks folded, the cushions standing at attention. she teaches lily them bit by bit over the next few weeks, little charms that make managing a house that much more simple. 

lily’s attempts are never as good as andromeda’s, though. lily suspects it’s something in their personalities, something that makes even the sofas eager to please and wary to disappoint. there’s a regalness to andromeda that makes her hard to refuse, hard to disobey. 

 

harry grows and lily learns how to sew, pulling out the rusty old magic sewing machine and making rudimentary outfits on it. it’s necessity, because she gets tired of him in the same clothes and too scared of leaving the house long enough to shop. andromeda brings her fabric in fun colours, and it takes a few attempts but harry soon has a wardrobe again, has choices. she makes things for herself too, simple dresses that don’t take long, and makes more complicated creations for tonks when she demands them.

it’s good fun and it gives lily something to do. she enjoys the creativity and the menialness of it, enjoys finding the best ways to charm fabrics into doing what she wants. 

 

sirius writes when he can, brief letters that are too vague to really be any comfort. she combs over them still, desperate for any news of james or peter. sirius doesn’t find either of them and lily dreads the day their bodies turn up almost as much as she wants some sort of closure. 

the tonks lend her supplies and she makes vials of helpful potions again, blood replenishing and fire resistancy and felix felicis, packing them into the envelope and praying they make it to sirius whole. she’s not sure who’s making the order potions now that she’s in hiding, but she hopes that these help the tiniest bit. 

 

dumbledore had told them about the order in april of their seventh year, her and james sitting in his office with his gadgets whirling around them. they’d agreed to join almost as soon as he’d finished talking, young and dumb in their optimism, their advocacy. 

peter, sirius, and remus had joined a few days later, then marlene and dorcas and benjy and mary. she had felt more and more invincible with every one of her friends who had joined. they were the best people she knew; how could voldemort be a match for them? 

 

things get worse. they get worse and worse and worse in a spiral downwards. she had thought things were bad when they were hiding, and things were definitely bad, but now there’s almost no chance at them winning. 

the _daily prophet_ churns out newspaper after newspaper and she reads them in the mornings, her heart sinking with every word. the order can’t win now, they can only hold back the tide. maybe they never could win the war, maybe dumbledore had been deceiving them all and dragging them with him. maybe her friends died for a fucking useless cause, slaughtered for no reason except stupid, stupid hope. 

 

the ministry falls on a friday morning with little fanfare. they’re eating their breakfast, all of them, when a patronus flies in through the window. lily doesn’t recognise the patronus, nor the voice that emanates from its throat. 

“the ministry has fallen. prepare yourselves.” 

the words crash over her like ice water, freezing her to her chair. the three adults just look at each other for a long, long moment as the panic and realisation catches hold of them one by one. 

andromeda breaks first, covering her face with her hands. “bloody hell. they’ve won,” she says in a choked voice, and ted sucks in a deep breath. “they can’t win.” 

“hush, ‘dromeda,” ted says. “you’re scaring the children.” but his voice is cracking too, pain blooming across his face, and the children are quietly watching them. lily tries to breathe against the tightening of her chest. 

“what are we going to _do?_ ” andromeda asks. ted stands up, his chair skidding across the floor, and comes to crouch in front of her, gathering her in his arms. 

“whatever it takes.” 

lily watches them and it feels like it’s from a distance, like she’s having an out of body experience but she’s not. vaguely, she wonders if people can drown in air, drown without any water surrounding them, because this feels like drowning. 

“mama?” tonks ask quietly and another sob breaks from andromeda’s throat. “mama, what’s happening?” 

“we’re not sure,” ted tells her. 

“is it scary?” 

“yes, darling. it’s scary.” 

tonks sits for a moment, watching her parents, and then slips off her chair. she wriggles her way under her father’s arm and stands there quietly between them, fingers clutching her mother’s arm. 

harry whines so lily picks him up and flees, runs from the drowning in the kitchen and the bad news. she takes the stairs two at a time and shuts herself in the bedroom she’s claimed, standing with her back against the door and harry tight in her arms. 

she’s still detached in that weird way and her chest is heaving up and down, fast, like a sob is trying to catch. it’s a match striking against flint; the cry shreds against her ribcage but doesn’t come out, muffled by her drowning. 

there was always the chance that she would die but this seems like a death sentence. it seems like her head’s being fitted into the guillotine, staring up at the blade. there’s nothing to save her now, no one to rescue her. 

harry whines again but lily doesn't put him down, carries him over to the bed and presses a kiss to his sweet face. 

“i’m sorry,” she tells him because there’s nothing else to say now. “i was supposed to keep you safe and i didn’t. i’m sorry, baby. i’m sorry.” 

he struggles and she lets him go, lets him flip over onto his stomach and slither off the bed to the floor. he makes his way to the cars she’s left on a nightstand and she watches him from the bed. he’s happy and lively and giggly and it makes knowing they’re going to die soon worse, somehow. 

she stays in the room until harry gets antsy. he scooches down the stairs on his bum, one at a time, until he lands on the ground and runs off in search of tonks. 

lily goes into the kitchen where ted is sitting at the table, a steaming cup in front of him. he lifts it in greeting. 

“do you want some coffee?” 

“do you have anything stronger?” she asks, only half-joking, and he squints at her. 

“half of this is ogden’s,” he says flatly. 

“that sounds good, then.” 

the coffee doesn’t take long and, true to his word, ted pours in a generous amount of whiskey into her mug. she grimaces when she takes the first sip. 

“this is strong.” 

he grunts and makes himself another cup. “well, if we’re going to die anyway.” 

she worries her lip with her teeth. “i’m sorry for dragging you into this war.” 

“not just you. i’m a mudblood too, remember? they would’ve caught up to me eventually. especially being married to a pureblood.” his tone is mocking by the end, bitter, and lily wonders how much shit he got for marrying andromeda. she got so much for being james’ boyfriend, and the potters were supportive of them. she can’t imagine what it was like for ted. 

“bellatrix wants nothing more than my head on a platter,” he continues, staring down into his cup. “she told me so when we announced our engagement. never told ‘dromeda that.” 

“i got hexed in the corridors,” she tells him. “didn’t matter where i was, but if i was by myself, i’d get hit with something. my friends offered to walk with me everywhere but that felt too much like letting them win.”

“or stupidity,” ted says dryly. “did it kill james to know that it was happening? it drove ‘dromeda mad with rage, nearly, whenever someone made snide comments. her back would go straighter than a ruler.”

“james landed in detention because of me more times than i’d like,” admits lily. “i didn’t want him to fight my battles but they were his too, a little bit. sirius too, but he always preferred to punch them in the nose instead.”

ted laughs lowly, shaking his head. “always a hothead, that one. he was always my favourite relative of the black family. the only one who wasn’t driven by greed and envy.”

lily takes another sip of her irish coffee. “i don’t know what i’m going to do if he doesn’t come back, ted. if any of them don’t come back. my heart feels like it’s going to break apart and i don’t know what to do.”

“don’t dwell on it,” he offers. “dwell on anything else, if you can.” he toasts her with his mugu again. “or drink until you can’t see straight. that’ll work too.” 

she laughs a little, a tiny thing, and fiddles with the ends of her hair. it’s getting long; she’ll need to trim it soon. ted taps his fingers against the table, looking to where tonks is engrossed in a book. 

andromeda comes into the room, eyes red but cheeks dry. she pulls out the chair across from lily and ted takes her hand as soon as she’s settled. 

“the ministry has fallen,” she says. “what does that mean?”

“they’re in control,” lily answers dully but andromeda shakes her head. 

“no, i know that. what does it mean for _us_?”

“lily will probably be a fugitive. muggleborns, they’ll do something to us. make us illegal or summat; who knows what evil they’ve thought up. won’t recognize our marriages, or our children.” 

“will we run?” andromeda asks and her voice trembles the smallest bit. 

“if we have to,” says ted. lily swallows hard. 

“i need to write sirius--” 

“no,” ted snaps and it makes her jump, makes andromeda’s mouth drop open in surprise. he relaxes a tiny bit, sits back in his chair when he realises how strongly he came across. “you can’t write anyone.” 

“it’s _sirius._ ” 

“we can’t trust anyone,” he says and every word feels like a slap. “we can’t trust anyone now, alright? it doesn’t matter-- they could track us. if we don’t want to run, then we have to lie low again.” 

“we have been lying low,” andromeda points out. 

“lower. they’ve got all the power of the ministry on their side now.” 

“fuck,” says lily. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“we’re fucked,” ted agrees and lily drains her cup. 

 

things don’t change immediately for the worse; lily suspects voldemort is smarter than that. it’s easier to control people when they’re not panicking, not fighting, turning up the temperature of the pot so the frog doesn’t realise he’s in boiling water. 

ted ends their subscription to the _daily prophet_ after two weeks, when it reports nothing of use. it’s too easily tracked, too easily followed. andromeda brings out her wireless instead and tunes it to the wizarding news station. 

lily writes and rewrites a dozen letters to sirius, even more to james, and shreds them all. as much as she hates being disconnected from the world again, ted is right. they don’t know who to trust, who is under whose spell, if james and sirius are in hiding or if they’ve been captured. she can’t compromise harry’s safety like that. 

they’re going to die, but damn it if lily goes without a fight. 

 

the first thing that makes their eyebrows rise is the card law. everyone is required to register, carry a card with their identity on it. they don’t say anything about blood but lily knows, they all know, what it means. 

she bites her lip and thinks about her old lessons, thinks about the pictures of hungry people with yellow stars and how that was the beginning. 

 

it’s night when the knock happens, rings through the lounge like a warning, and the three adults stare at each other for what feels like a long, long moment. 

“who is it?” andromeda hisses as there’s another knock, more impatient this time, and she moves towards the door. 

“‘dromeda,” ted warns but it would be strange if she didn’t answer, they all know this, so no one stops her. 

lily’s kept the invisibility cloak close ever since halloween, and she pulls it over her head, edging towards the stairs. 

she should go up and hide, go up and grab harry in case they have to run again, but it might be sirius. it might be _james_. 

she stays. 

andromeda pulls open the door and steps back in shock as a blonde woman steps through. she’s got a severe face, as light as andromeda is dark, but lily can read the resemblance there. 

“narcissa,” andromeda says in surprise. “what are you doing here?”

“can’t i visit my sister?” 

“you made it quite clear that you didn’t ever want to see me again.”

narcissa raises an eyebrow, nose wrinkling as she glances over to ted. “so nothing has changed?”

“a lot has changed, but not in the way you think.”

“well,” says narcissa, smoothing her hands over her dress. she’s got a look of disgust on her face, like she’s just smelled something unpleasant, and lily remembers her now. she was a slytherin two years younger, dating a boy in lily’s year who was as mean as he was cold. 

“i’m sure you’ve heard of what’s happening,” continues narcissa. “the dark lord—”

“i’m aware,” andromeda replies, tone clipped. 

“then you’re aware of what’s to come,” says narcissa, shooting another glance ted’s way. ted bristles, curls his hands into fists, but doesn’t speak. “andromeda, i miss you. we all miss you. you could come back and be _safe_ , be with us again--” 

“no,” andromeda says and lily can see a tear on her cheek. “not without my family.” 

ted swallows and narcissa steps back, scowling. “we are your family.” 

“leave me alone, cissy.” 

“you’re going to die if you don’t,” narcissa snaps. andromeda flinches. “they’ll kill you for resisting, _he’ll_ kill them and then you.”

“so i should abandon them to save myself?” narcissa’s cheeks go pink, just a little, and andromeda shakes her head. “what kind of mother would i be, what kind of wife? would you leave draco, if you were in my place?” 

narcissa opens her mouth to respond, closes it, opens it once more. “i--” she starts, and then frowns, bending to pick up something from the ground. it’s a sock, one of harry’s, patterned with dinosaurs. she stares at it for a moment and then looks at andromeda. 

the sock is very clearly not tonks’. tonks, who is supposed to be the only child in the house.

a wave of nausea hits lily as understanding slides across narcissa’s face, shock mingling with consideration. andromeda swallows, snatches the sock from narcissa’s hand, but the damage is done. 

“cissy--” she starts but narcissa shakes her head. 

“he’s going to kill you,” narcissa says lowly, adjusting her cloak around her neck. “i’m warning you now.”

a muscle works in ted’s jaw. “we know,” he says and it’s the first time he’s spoken since narcissa came. lily jumps. “you don’t need to keep reminding us.” 

“cissy, you could come live with us instead,” andromeda says, wild. “bring draco and get away, come stay here instead.” 

narcissa’s expression settles into something cold, something hard. she sniffs, staring down the length of her nose at ted and andromeda. “i could never,” she replies coldly, “ _never_ leave my family. goodbye, andromeda.” 

with that, she sweeps out of the door nearly as suddenly as she came, leaving them all frozen in her wake. 

“shit,” says ted, unfreezing first. “shit, ‘dromeda, we have to--” 

“i know,” she says and sighs. “i know. you do the patronus. shit, it should never have come to this.” 

“we should’ve done it a long time ago,” ted corrects as he pulls out a wand, mutters the patronus charm. he says something too quietly for lily to hear and she waits until the silver animal has flown off to pull away the cloak. 

“what’s going on?” 

“fidelus charm,” andromeda says, not even jumping at lily’s appearance. she’s still got harry’s sock in her hand, crushed into a ball in her fist. “it’s time we put it into place.” 

“why now? why not before?” 

ted and andromeda exchange a look before ted speaks. 

“we had hoped they would forget about us.” 

“or would be reluctant to go against one of their own,” andromeda says bitterly. “i hoped my status would keep us safe without putting us in hiding.” 

“what changed?” lily asks and they exchange another look. andromeda uncurls her hands, presents the sock to lily. 

“narcissa isn’t the most loyal, but she can’t keep something like this a secret. not for long, anyway.” 

“who’s secret keeper?”

“someone we trust,” ted says, voice clipped, and lily drops it. “do we need anything before we hide?” 

andromeda shakes her head and lily does too. the tension in the air is so thick lily could choke on it, could slice it with a knife and swallow it down piece by piece until she suffocated, and once again she feels like drowning. 

this war is going to kill her, one way or another. it will kill her with a spell to the chest or with catastrophe by everloving catastrophe stacked on top of her shoulders until she collapses, too many years of fear and anger weakening her heart until it can beat no longer. 

she smoothes the sock in her hand and picks at the hem, noticing the fraying happening around the top. they’re an old-ish pair, the pair harry had been wearing on halloween, and one of the few clothing items he has that she didn’t make. remus gave her these, she thinks. 

fucking _remus_. of everything, that feels the heaviest. it’s the biggest catastrophe stacked, along with the disappearance of james, because she can’t fathom _why_. why did he betray them, how could he betray them when they’re his _family_. did they mean that little to him, did she mean nothing? 

she shoves the sock into her pocket just as the door shudders with another knock, flies open before any of them can move. the figure there is familiar and lily’s heart jumps into her throat. 

“sirius!” she says as the man steps into the kitchen and fear floods her body again. it’s not sirius, it’s very much not sirius, and her wand’s in her hand before she can blink. 

regulus stares at the end for a moment, and then stares at her. his lips are quirked in a small smile, one that’s almost like sirius’ but not quite, and it makes her heart ache. 

“is that the kind of welcome i’m getting now?” he says, dry, and his voice is deeper than sirius’, deeper than she remembers it back at hogwarts. 

he had hexed her once. they’d met in an empty classroom when lily was doing patrols by herself on a full moon. james had begged her to get a partner but she’d refused, insisted on doing them herself, and it had been fine up until that moment. 

she can’t remember all that she said, just remembers them fighting over something small. 

“does it sting to know that you’ve been replaced?” she’d taunted because he’d called her a mudblood whore and it was the third time that week. “do you hate knowing that sirius will never love you as much as he loves james, loves peter and remus, loves _me?_ ” 

he had hit her with a stinging hex before she could react, hands flying up to cover her painful face, and left without another word. 

her mouth twists as she looks at him now, an adult so familiar-yet-strange, and her arm doesn’t waver. 

“i don’t know, are you still a death eater?” she asks and he raises an eyebrow. 

“yes,” he says simply. 

“drop your wand, lily,” ted tells her, andromeda tugging on her arm until it’s lowered. “you can trust him.” 

“can i?” it’s dubious, and regulus shrugs. 

“i trust him,” ted amends. “he’s alright.”

“he’s a death eater,” she snarls because marlene is dead and mary is dead and dorcas is dead and regulus had a hand in them all. “he’s killed people.” 

“he’s our secret keeper, lily,” says andromeda. lily blinks at her. 

“ _him?_ ” 

“him,” she confirms, squeezing regulus’ arm. “he’s the only one i’d trust to do it.” 

“why?” 

“thanks for the vote of confidence,” regulus says and moves to sit at the table, looking far too relaxed for lily’s comfort. 

“you hit me in the back with a stunning spell,” she answers flatly. “seventh year, i was walking with james.” 

he shrugs again. “people change.” 

“not in my experience. not like that.”

“i did.”

“sirius doesn’t trust you and i trust sirius.”

“we have our differences,” regulus says, his grey eyes dark and emotionless. “you don’t have to trust me. you just have to trust ted and andromeda.”

she tips her head to look at them, thinking about her boy tucked upstairs in bed. her sweet boy who’s marked for destruction if she does anything wrong. 

but nymphadora is up there too; they’ve got as much to lose as she does. 

regulus is slouched in the chair, trying to look relaxed and casual. but she can read the tension in his body. he’s on edge and that puts her on edge. 

“lily,” says andromeda. “we have to do this.”

“it’s your house,” she says finally, waving a hand. “do what you like.”

she watches them do the spell, anxiety and fear and desperate hope twisting in her stomach. regulus doesn’t flinch at any of the requirement, doesn’t hesitate when he’s made secret keeper. 

for the thousandth time that night lily thinks about sirius, thinks about the reckless loyalty that ran in him as wide as a river. regulus has the same in him, the same stubborn tilt to his head when andromeda and ted give him one more chance at a way out. he shakes his head and they finish the spell, tying it off until he holds their fare in his hands. 

“wait,” lily calls when he’s about to leave. she can’t help herself. “regulus, wait!”

he turns towards her and she pauses, indecision warring in her body. is knowing better than not knowing? is ignorance better than the terrible, awful truth. 

no, she decides. she has to know. 

“my husband, james,” she says, and it’s breathless with panic. “is he dead?”

regulus looks at her for a long time, brows pulled together in a frown. 

“captured, not dead,” he answers finally. “they won’t kill him yet. not if they think they can turn him.”

“can they?”

“not at the moment.”

“does he know that i’m alive?”

“not sure.”

“can you tell him?”

his frown gets deeper. “no,” he says curtly and lily scowls, crossing her arms. 

“why not?”

he lifts his eyes up to the ceiling for a brief moment. “because if he knows you’re alive, then he’ll try and escape. if he tries to escape, they’ll kill him. i’d reckon you’d rather have your husband alive, yeah?”

“yeah,” she says, chewing on her lip. “yeah. what about sirius?”

“don’t know where he is.” the _yet_ is unsaid but still there, hanging on the end of regulus’ sentence.

“is peter still alive?”

he frowns again, but it’s less angry this time, more confused. “pettigrew? why would pettigrew—” he cuts himself off and glances down at his watch. “shit, i have to go.”

“thank you regulus,” says ted. “stay safe.”

andromeda kisses him on the cheek and he’s gone, out of the house with a flip of the black cloak. 

for the upteenth time in a short amount of days, the three of them are left standing in silence, staring at each other. 

they’re trapped again. james is alive. voldemort is controlling the ministry. her boys are safe for the time being. 

she swallows down the bile rising in her throat. “i’m going to bed,” she says quietly and runs before anyone can say anything else. 

 

regulus sends word two weeks later that sirius has been captured, delivered in tense sentences that land like a punch to the chest, every word a blow. he’s at the lestrange manor, regulus thinks, and there is no way for him to escape. 

lily shakes until she shakes apart, biting her lip against the fury building in her body. 

// 

the easter ball was the event of the season, apparently, and james had moaned about it the whole month of april. 

“it’s just swotty people in swotty robes, talking about the weather and trying to impress each other,” he groaned, burying his head in his arms. “it’s awful.” 

“it’s a fucking nightmare,” sirius agreed and lily laughed, dropping her hand in james’ hair. he sighed at the feeling of her fingers, his shoulders relaxing a tiny bit. 

“oh, boo hoo,” she said and wound one of james’ curls around her finger. “you have to dress in nice clothes for an evening instead of running around the castle like animals.” 

sirius glared at her over the cover of his book. “offensive, evans.” 

she stuck out her tongue and made her voice all the more dramatic. “what will you do all evening? you’re stuck drinking fancy alcohol and eating tiny sandwiches and wearing pastel colours. what a _horror._ ” 

“it is a horror,” james said, tipping his head to glare at her too. “there’s this one woman who’s _insufferable--_ think binns but worse-- and she just talks about her bunions all the time.” 

“oh, muriel’s not that bad,” sirius argued. “she’s annoying but she’s harmless. it’s the malfoys that are the worst.” 

“honestly don’t know why they’re still invited to this.” 

“wait, malfoy? as in lucius?” asked lily, wrinkling her nose. sirius and james nodded. 

“the very one,” said james. “sirius’ to-be cousin-in-law.” 

“wait, what?” lily asked and twisted towards sirius. sirius scowled, not looking up from his book. he turned the page. 

“narcissa.” 

“ _narcissa?_ isn’t she a sixth year or something?” 

“fifth year.” 

“and they’re _engaged_?!” 

“pre-engaged, technically,” james replied, nudging at lily’s palms with his head. she took the hint and started running her fingers through his hair again. 

“she’s fifteen.” 

“it’s old pureblood tradition.” 

“what, child marriage?” 

“arranged marriage,” corrected sirius, dog-earring his place and putting down the book. “rarely anyone does it anymore, thank _god_ , but the malfoys and the blacks aren’t ones to keep up with the times,” he said, sneering. lily eyes him for a moment. 

“did you have a fiance?”

“ _no._ my parents were mental, but not that mental.” 

“what about you, james?” she asked, nudging his neck. he looked up at her again with a raised eyebrow. “did you have any arranged marriages before i came and ruined it all?” 

“oh, of course. my mother was heartbroken when i said i was dating you instead,” he said loftily and she laughed, flicking him on the nose. 

“your mother loves me,” she told him and he sat up straight, tugging her chair closer so he could nose at her cheek. 

“that she does. more than she loves me, i’d reckon.” 

“now that’s a lie.” lily knew how much euphemia doted on james, saw it firsthand over christmas and in the care packages she sends him monthly. 

“more than sirius, then.” 

“oi,” said sirius, throwing a quill at james’ head. it bounced off the side and fell to floor. 

“also a lie,” lily agreed because euphemia thought of sirius like a second son and treated him as such. she had a heart of gold and the hospitality to match. 

james blew a raspberry against her cheek and she squealed, leaning away and laughing. 

“i’m _trying_ to be romantic here and you’re ruining it.” 

“telling me how much your mother loves me isn’t terribly romantic, james.” 

“seconded,” sirius called and james flipped him off without looking. looking over the table, he snatched up a spare piece of parchment and his wand. 

“what are you doing?” lily asked but james ignored her, transfiguring the parchment into a beautiful flower. 

“lily evans,” he said solemnly and held the flower out. “would you save me from a slow death by boredom and attend the easter ball with me?” 

she stared at the lily, taking it between her fingers. “did you make this a lily because that’s my name?” 

“no,” he said but his cheeks were the tiniest bit pink. 

“that’s fucking lazy, mate.” 

“not looking for your input, padfoot,” james hissed over his shoulder and turned back to lily. “it’s a lily because it’s _easter_ and that’s the type of flower that’s common this time of year. nothing to do with your name.” 

lily hummed and twisted the lily around. “you need to work on your proposals, if that’s the best you’ve got.”

he rolled his eyes. “if i promise to do better next time, will you go to this sodding ball with me?” 

“sure.” 

“enthusiastic,” he deadpanned and it was her turn to roll her eyes. 

“you haven’t really sold this ball, honestly.” 

“you get to see me in my finest robes. that should be exciting enough to warrant a bigger reaction.” 

she smoothed away hair that had fallen into his eyes, adjusting his glasses and trying not to smile too widely. “nope. doesn’t sound exciting to me at all.” 

“you’re a prat,” he told her. 

“learned from the best.”

“oh, so sirius?”

“that would be _you_ , potter,” she said and watched his smile drop into a fake scowl, biting back a grin at sirius’ laughing. “merlin knows why i go out with you.”

“because i’m devilishly handsome and a quidditch star?” 

“because you’re incredibly humble?” offered sirius. 

“something like that,” lily answered and pressed her mouth to james’ for a moment. “i’ll come to your party.” 

“best girlfriend ever,” james told her and kissed her until sirius’ complaining made them separate, laughing wildly. 

 

she was nervous about the whole thing, as much as she assured james that she would be fine. it was so out of her element for so many reasons, only one of them being the so-called purity of her blood. 

she wore her best robes, the yellow ones that mrs potter had given her for christmas, and twisted her hair up in an updo. dorcas helped by dusting blusher over her cheeks and eyeliner over her eyes, leaning away with a critical gaze. 

“you’ll do,” she said finally, tugging a piece of lily’s hair free so it fell over her face and beaming. “james is going to have a heart attack on the spot when he sees you.”

“he’s seen me dressed up before,” lily grumbled and dorcas snorted. 

“yeah and he has a conniption every time.”

“he does not.”

“he does,” argued dorcas. “that boy loves you to pieces.”

it’s not new information but she still blushes from the roots of her hair, twisting her fingers in the sleeve of her robe. 

“merlin,” groaned dorcas. “you’re insufferable, the both of you. go and have your fun. don’t get pregnant.”

“doe!”

she shrugged. “it’s bound to happen. just not tonight, yeah?”

lily smacked her hip as she went down the stairs. james was waiting with his back to her, dressed in the robes his mum had given him for christmas. they were black, with yellow details, and lily reckoned it was no accident it matched her robes. 

“prongs,” remus said, pointing in her direction, and james spun around to face her. his face broke out into a huge grin as she walked down next to him, smiling because she couldn’t help it. 

“hi,” he breathed. “you look incredible.”

“so do you,” she said and picked a piece of lint off his collar. “you clean up well.”

he laughed, ruffling his hair with a hand. 

“are you seriously _nervous?_ ” sirius asked incredulously as he came up behind them. “she’s your fuckin’ girlfriend, mate. no need to be nervous.”

james’ ears went red as he threw a scowl over his shoulder. “it’s a big event!”

“and you’re a ponce.”

“a very handsome ponce,” lily said quietly and james’ eyes snapped back to her. “and a cute one too.” she caught his chin in her hand before he could kiss her, shoving it away. “you’ll mess up my lipstick.”

he pouted, nipping at her fingers. “i can’t kiss you?”

“not until after the party, no. doe took too much time on this look for it to be messed up before we even get there.”

“makeup can be touched up.”

she leveled a glare at him and her lipstick was saved by remus’ amused voice. 

“we’ve got to go or we’ll be late.”

james huffed a sigh and pulled free, wrapping his hand around lily’s. “fine.”

“you can mess up my makeup later,” lily teased, brushing her lips over his cheek so there’s a pink smudge. 

“is that a promise?”

“you tell me.”

“merlin, can you two stop flirting for _one_ minute?” peter groaned and tugged on the collar of his robe. “it’s nauseating.”

“poor peter,” crooned lily. “are you bitter because you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“no,” peter said, grumpy, and lily laughed, patting him on the shoulder. 

‘i’ll kiss your cheek too, here.” she smudged her mouth over his cheek and left another dash of lipstick, pink to match his blush. “anybody else?” 

remus and sirius stepped neatly out of her reach, shaking their heads, and james turned his head to the other side. she smacked a kiss there so he’d match, grinning at the ridiculousness. 

“your mum’s going to have a fit,” she said happily and james chuckled, twining their fingers together again. 

“if she doesn’t keel over of happiness first.” 

“her baby, dating such a _lovely_ girl,” teased sirius, lilting his voice in a passable impression of mrs potter. “oh, jamie, how did you ever convince lily to go out with you?” 

“deception and trickery,” said remus. “and the charming potter genes.”

“charming potter genes? you mean hair that won’t be tamed?” asked peter and sirius started humming that old sleakeazy commercial that used to play on the radio. james groaned, covering his face with his free hand. 

“let’s just go. please,” he said and they took pity on him, heading to dumbledore’s office to be floo’d away. 

 

lily had never been to wizarding parties or high society parties or high society parties, let alone both. she smoothed a hand down her front, displacing any ash left from the fire, and took in a deep breath. 

this was never her world, would never really _be_ her world. she was acutely aware of the fact that so many people beyond these doors thought she was lesser than, looked down on her for a myriad of reasons, and she could never win their favour. it was daunting and it made her nearly turn around to go straight back to hogwarts.

james caught her eye from across the room, lipstick still dashed across his cheeks like an idiot, and smiled. 

“you alright?” he mouthed and she nodded, twisting her hair around her finger. remus nudged her with his shoulder. 

“chin up, lily,” he said as they began to walk. “close your eyes and think of england.”

“are you implying i’m going to get fucked tonight?” she asked dryly and he gave her a sly grin. 

“maybe.”

lily shook her head, tucking her elbow in remus’ and flashing an offended james a grin. “sirius truly corrupted you, didn’t he? _think of england,_ merlin, remus.”

they were laughing again as they entered the ballroom, arm in arm with james on her heels. the room was a bit overwhelming; there were a lot of people in shimmering pastel robes, and euphemia had hung the walls in decorations that had their own twinge of magic in a way that took lily’s breath away. 

“james!” cried mrs potter, spotting her son and making a beeline for them. she held his face in her hands and beamed, adding her own lipstick to lily’s already on his cheek. 

james groaned, trying to yank his head away, but euphemia had a firm grip. 

“mum, you’re embarrassing me in front of my friends,” he teased and she let go to turn to them. 

“sirius!” she cried, smacking a kiss on his cheek, remus’ cheek, and peter’s cheek too. “it is so good to see you.”

“thanks ‘mia,” sirius said. “where’s the liquor table?”

she leveled a glare at him. “there will not be a repeat of new year’s eve, will there?”

“never,” sirius said with a wicked grin and disappeared into the crowd, euphemia shaking her head after him. she turned back to them and beamed, reaching over to take lily’s hand. 

“hello darling,” she said, squeezing lily’s fingers gently. “you look absolutely stunning.”

“thank you, mrs potter.”

“call me euphemia, please. but truly, you’re absolutely stunning. merlin knows how james managed to catch you.” she winked at lily as james sputtered, making a face at them both. 

“is no one on my side?”

“never,” vowed lily and mrs potter laughed. 

“i knew it was a bad idea to introduce you two,” grumbled james. euphemia reached up and thumbed at the lipstick marks on his cheek, thumbing away until there was just a tinge of pink left. “where’s dad?” 

“talking to the minister. he has some questions about new protocol being put into place in the muggle artefacts division.” 

“fascinating,” said james. “we’re going to go dance.” 

euphemia waggled her fingers and shooed them away. james tugged lily to where an orchestra was playing something light and melodic, pulled her close, and wrapped his hands around her waist. 

“you look uncomfortable,” she remarked, bringing her own arms up around his neck, stroking her thumb down the nape of his neck. he shuddered a little, shrugged. 

“there’s too many ponces in here. makes me nervous.” 

she snorted. “you’re full of shite, do you know that?” he smirked, dipping her in an unexpected move that most definitely did not fit the mood of the room. she laughed anyway, letting her head flip down until he righted her again. “now who’s the ponce?” 

“definitely not me.” 

“really? so you’re telling me you didn’t just dip me so you could get a cheeky glance down my robes?” 

his smirk widened and she rolled her eyes. “might’ve. should i do it again?” 

“no, definitely not.”

 

she noticed the stares. how could she not when they were coming from every angle, pointed and surprised. it took an hour before someone addressed it directly, sidled up to her when she was getting a drink and james was talking to his father. 

“i don’t think i’ve met you,” said the witch in lavender robes. her tone was cunning, even in the soft accent that layered over her words, and lily paused. “i am racquel flint.” 

“lily evans,” said lily and one of raquel’s eyebrows went up. 

“evans? i am not familiar with that name.” 

“you wouldn’t,” james said, appearing at lily’s side. she hands him a cup. “she’s at hogwarts with me, not beauxbatons.” 

“i assumed. i wanted to know if i had run across her anywhere else.”

“did you?” 

she glared at him but he kept his innocent expression, sipping his drink mildly. lily looked between them. 

“i’m not a pureblood, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, voice even, and racquel fixed a hurt expression on her face. 

“ _non_ , of course not.” 

“they should teach you to lie better at your school,” james told her. “it’s a good skill for polite people to have.” 

“does your _maman_ know you are this impertinent?” 

“shove off, raquel. you’re just a year older, no need to act so high and mighty.” 

“james--” lily started but he didn’t listen, still looking at racquel with a keen eye and racquel glowered back. “it was nice to meet you, racquel,” she said instead, curling her fingers in james’ sleeve. “james, where was the powder room again? could you show me?” 

he nodded, the muscles in his neck tense, but turned away from the drinks table to steer her in the direction of the hallway. 

lily glanced over her shoulder as she left and saw the flash of racquel’s lavender robes flitting over to narcissa malfoy, whispering something in her ear. 

“a temper is not going to make them stop,” she said quietly and watched his jaw flex. 

“no, but it will make them ashamed, if they’re halfway decent.” 

“i didn’t really need the loo.” 

“i know. but we both needed a break,” he said and pulled open a little door, waving her through to the gardens. there was a group of benches with someone slumped there, and james shook his head. “alright, padfoot?” 

“bloody brilliant,” sirius croaked, lifting a glass. “do you know who hannah fucking greenglass brought as her date?” 

james eyed him before sitting down, clinking their cups. “i can guess.” 

sirius continued like james hadn’t spoken, curling his lips up in a sneer. “regulus arcturus black.” 

“fuck.” 

“yeah. didn’t intend on seeing him here in my own home. _my_ home, not his.” he bit out the words and drained the rest of his drink, dropping the cup into the grass beside him. “the _motherfucker_.” 

lily sat next to james, leaning against his shoulder, and kicked a leg out to nudge at sirius’. 

“i have an idiot of a sister,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “she’s not… she’s not as bad as regulus, but she does make my life miserable.” sirius sniffed, trying to discreetly rub at his face. “i don’t think she’s said more than twenty words to me since we were fifteen, and then mostly just to yell.” 

“what did you do?” james asked, quiet, and she flips his palm over to trace over the lines in his hand with a finger. 

“i was a witch and she wasn’t. it was… difficult for her.” 

“bitch,” sirius muttered. 

“yeah. she was jealous and i idolized her so much. it hurt when she cut me out.” 

james kissed the side of her head and she tapped out a beat on his skin. 

“we could start a club,” said sirius and lily hummed. “the fucked up families club. james is not invited.” 

“okay,” she answered and james made a noise in his throat. 

“ _you’re_ my family, sirius, and _you’re_ fucked up. shouldn’t that count?” 

sirius stretched, raising his arms over his head and dropping them down over james’ shoulders, still in a dark mood but a little less so now. 

“honourary mention, how about.” 

james looked at lily for confirmation and she pursed her lips in faux-thought before dipping her chin in a nod. “alright by me.” 

sirius chuckled, tickling lily’s arm with his dangling hand. “what should be the initiation ritual?” 

“a kiss on the cheek?” she said and sirius snorted.

“yeah, why not,” he said and they leaned in to smack a kiss on both sides of james’ face before james could wriggle away. 

“there. initiated,” lily told james, smug, and he wrinkled his nose. 

“please don’t do that again.” 

“what? you want me to stop kissing you?” lily teased and james sighed heavily. 

“you, i don’t mind. sirius, i’m not so sure of.” 

“you would be lucky to have another kiss from me, potter,” sirius argued, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “it would be a bloody _honour_ for you.”

“i’ll pass, thank you,” said james and they laughed again, sitting under the stars, all tipping towards each other like they were caught in each others’ gravity and couldn’t escape. 

// 

the news comes over the wireless first, cracking through the static and the silence in the kitchen. it’s a whiny voice, too soft for the commands being issued, like fruit that has been rotted through. 

_any muggle possessing magic is required to report to the ministry of magic to explain how they came to steal this magic. this is not voluntary. report immediately._

ted and lily look at each other. lily’s got a pair of harry’s trousers in her hands; she twists it every which way absently. 

“i didn’t steal magic,” she says and ted nods. “none of us did.” 

“they don’t care. it’s nothing but a cover.” 

“nothing but an excuse to throw us out, isn’t it.” 

“or worse,” replies ted, grim, and andromeda shakes her head. 

“this is madness. it’s inhumane. _illegal._ ”

“it’s not. voldemort makes the rules now, he decides what’s legal.” 

“people won’t stand for this,” she argues and lily drops harry’s clothes to rub at her eyes. 

“they already have. the registry... they already have.”

“the registry?” andromeda exclaims. “what do you mean, ‘the registry’?”

“the muggleborn registry. people knew what came next after being registered. it’s not hard, and it’s not new, and people didn’t fight against it.” 

“they were scared--” 

“yes,” says lily. “we are all scared. but it doesn’t matter now. it’s over.”

andromeda takes in a shaky breath, sits on the sofa next to ted and pulls at her hair. “what are we going to do? we can’t stay here, they’ll find us eventually.”

“we have the fidelius charm,” says ted dully. “it should last us for a while.” 

“if regulus doesn’t betray us,” lily mutters. the other two ignore her.

“how long would we stay here, ted? how long would we hide? months? years? a decade” 

“i don’t know, andromeda.” 

“is nymphadora going to grow up within the confines of these four walls? we can’t do that to her. she needs a life.” 

“we have to leave,” lily says to herself. 

“ _what_?” andromeda and ted say together and lily stares at them both. she understands; a year ago she would’ve balked at leaving too. she would rather fight tooth and nail than leave her boys, but her boys are gone and she is too ragged to wait for them to come back. 

“there’s nothing left for us here. there is no one to fight for us and nothing keeping us in this place.” 

“this is our home,” andromeda argues but ted puts a hand on her arm, face screwed up. 

“she’s right. ‘dromeda, she’s right.” 

“leaving would be suicide.”

“staying is suicide,” lily counters, running her hands through her hair. “we knew that already. running at least gives us a chance.” 

“lily--” says ted.

“do what you want,” lily says, getting to her feet. “but i am leaving in two days.” 

“where will you go?” asks andromeda. 

“i don’t know. france, maybe. america. italy. west germany. anywhere but here, living in fear for the rest of my short life.” 

andromeda taps her fingers against the sofa armrest, eyes wide and wild. “we have to tell regulus,” she says eventually. “he deserves to know.” 

anxiety twinges in lily’s stomach at telling him, the death eater, sirius’ brother, anything else. but he’d proved himself trustworthy, at least a little, so she nods. 

“okay. okay.” 

“we’re really doing this?” ted asks. “we’re really running away?” 

lily manages a small smile. “i thought i was the gryffindor.” 

“hufflepuffs have a lot of courage too,” he answers. “it feels like cowardice.” 

“i don’t think saving our children could ever be cowardice.” 

“fair enough.” his face folds in pain and dismay. “two days, then.” 

“two days. and then we run.” 

 

regulus does not like the plan but he agrees it’s necessary, scowling in the middle of the kitchen. 

“it’s choosing one death over another,” he says. 

“but at least we have a chance this way,” lily tells him and he looks at her for a long, long moment before inclining his head. 

“i hope you don’t regret it.” 

lily sighs, picking harry up off the floor and fitting him onto her hip. he’s getting big, almost two now, and he’s heavy against her side. he tucks his head into the crook of her neck and looks at regulus with curious eyes. regulus stares back, a tiny smile flickering at the side of his mouth. he reaches out and runs a hand over harry’s head, brushing his fingers through the dark, unruly hair that’s so much like james. 

“he has your eyes,” says regulus quietly. “like a mirror image.” 

“and the potter hair.” 

“fleamont would’ve been proud,” regulus tells her, tapping the end of harry’s nose. it’s tentative between them, a tense peace, but it’s building. abruptly, he leans back. “i’ll get him out,” he says. 

lily blinks. “what?”

“james. i’ll figure out a way to get him to you.” 

“i don’t-- i don’t--” 

regulus offers her a crooked smile that knocks the breath out of her, the spitting image of his brother in that moment. “tell me where you end up, yeah?” 

“yeah,” she breathes out, heart thumping in reckless, dangerous, awful hope. “yeah.” 

he pinches harry’s cheek lightly and steps away before lily can gather her thoughts, finding tonks and chatting to her about something. she watches them interact and shakes her head. 

the black brothers. always a surprise. 

 

they decide to head for paris. andromeda has an aunt there who could help, potentially. 

“she’s very old and very batty. she might not want to help, but out of everyone, she’s the one i can think to go to.” 

“are you sure, ‘dromeda?” ted asks and she nods, tightening her fingers around the straps of her rucksack. 

“i’m sure.” 

they’ve been told that voldemort is monitoring the apparation network, but not fastidiously. they can apparate in small burst, small enough that they don’t trip the escape alarm, and nowhere near muggle places. 

“walk between points,” regulus told them, “so it’s harder to track.” 

they leave in the afternoon. andromeda takes a last look at the house and swallows hard, her chin trembling the tiniest bit. 

“goodbye house,” she says softly and pulls the door shut so ted can lock it with his wand. 

they walk into the fields that surround the home, harry asleep on lily’s shoulder and tonks holding ted’s hand, and slog through the springtime mud. they walk and walk until they come across a village, one that’s slowly waking up, and ted sighs. 

“london, then? somewhere we all know?” 

lily shifts harry. “erm… diagon alley?” 

“too obvious,” says andromeda. “st mungo’s?” 

“st mungo’s might work,” ted says, frowning. “it’s still risky, though.” 

“king’s cross,” andromeda offers, and the other two look at her. “we’ve all been there. it’s a muggle place, but there are enough wizards there that they shouldn’t be able to track us.” 

“yeah,” ted agrees and lily nods. “king’s cross it is.” 

lily tightens her grip on harry and closes her eyes, imagining the front of the building. she can see it so clearly after so many years heading there, can imagine what it looked like as she walked up the steps to the front door, on her way to another magical year at hogwarts. she had been so naive then, so innocent. she wasn’t running from her problems, she was facing them head-on, and she had won. 

there’s the familiar twisty feeling and she blinks around at the street in front of her. she’s tucked away in an alley so she doesn’t shock any muggles and she adjusts her hair before stepping out into the lightly crowded area. a few people give her a funny look, a young woman with a baby coming out of a dark street, but most are too busy to notice. 

lily plants herself by the entrance and scans the crowd for ted and andromeda, belatedly realizing that they never agreed to meet anywhere if they got separated. they could be inside, could be on the opposite side of the building, and she would have no idea. 

she squints. “ _peter_ ,” she asks disbelievingly, starting off towards the familiar figure. peter startles and turns around, a panicked look on his face. “oh my god, peter, i thought you were _dead_.” 

he stiffens when she throws her arms around him, hesitantly pulling his own arms up to embrace her briefly. she feels weird, halfway between a sob and a laugh, because he’s _here_ , one of her boys is here, and he’s _alive._

“oh my god,” she repeats, squeezing him close. “you’re alive.” 

“i’m alive,” peter echoes, a little faintly. he looks shifty, uneasy, like he’s waiting for something. she steps back. 

“were you with james and sirius? in azkaban, were you there? have you seen them?” 

“i saw them,” he says and there’s something strange in his voice, something that almost makes her pause. he still won’t look straight at her. 

“did regulus get you all out?” 

he jerks back, eyes snapping to hers, and frowns. “what? regulus?” 

“yeah, he told me he was going to get you out.” 

“regulus _black?_ ” 

“yes, peter,” lily says slowly, taking another step back. “sirius’ brother.” 

“why were you talking with _him_?” 

she frowns at him for a second. “because he was going to rescue you. he _is_ the one who got you out, right? he said he would.”

“uh, sure.” he glances over her shoulder and scratches at his chin. he’s thinner than she’s used to, but still not as thin as she thought he would be. it gives her hope; maybe they weren’t treated as badly in there. maybe the other boys will be just as whole, just as unhurt by the whole thing.

“we didn’t know who helped us,” peter adds and she’s brought back to the present, to peter’s fidgeting and harry’s steady breathing. “just open doors and we… we started running.” 

“we? did james escape?” 

“he did, he’s looking for you--” 

“where? where is he? does sirius take him back to the house? he won’t be able to find it, it’s under the fidelius charm--” 

“i…” 

“oh, i know,” she says, frantically rooting around in her cloak pocket while trying not to disturb harry. “he wrote down the address for us, in case we ever needed it. a situation like this, i guess.” she thrusts the slip of paper in peter’s hand, wraps his fingers around it. “there. we’ll be at that address, okay?” 

“i don’t-- okay,” he replies. it’s defeated, somehow. tired. there’s still something strange hovering around him, something that hasn’t been there before. it’s a wariness, a craftiness, and she realises just how long it’s been since she’s seen him. 

“you’ve grown up,” she says softly. he looks up at her in shock, tipping his head to the side. “we all have, i know, but you seem, dunno. older.” 

he scratches at his neck, pink in his cheeks. “what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“just-- are you sure you’re alright? you don’t look the same, pete. what did they do to you?” 

“they didn’t… nothing,” he says and his back’s stiff, eyes guarded. “i don’t want to talk about it.” 

“peter--” she cuts off as she hears her name being shouted. she turns, heart leaping into her throat, but it’s just the tonks, making their way towards her. lily wilts the tiniest bit, looking back at peter. he’s caught somewhere between confusion and fear, fingers inching to his wand. 

“it’s not-- that’s andromeda,” she says quietly and he looks at her. “it’s not bellatrix.” 

“sure looks like her,” peter mumbles and lily manages a smile. 

“they’re sisters.” 

peter inclines his head, stepping back. “i’ve got to go.” 

“what? peter, wait--” 

“no, i’ve got to go.” he waves the address a little bit. “um, i need to find them and bring them to the house. i’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

“but peter--” 

“goodbye, lily,” he says and it’s sad, too sad to make sense, but he’s scurried away before she could stop him. she gapes after him for a minute until the tonks come up to her.

“who was that?” andromeda asks, reaching for harry. lily hands him over, thankful for the break, and shakes her head. 

“it’s peter. he’s been missing for _months_. we thought he was dead but he’s _not_ , he’s _alive._ oh my god,” she says, rubbing at her face with a hand. “james is coming.” 

“what?” asks ted. lily turns to him and she knows her eyes are frantic. ted takes a tiny step back. 

“we have to go home.” 

“sorry, what?” he repeats, eyes flying up to his hairline. “we just left.” 

“i know, but james escaped and he’s going to to your house and i have to find him, ted, i _have_ to find him.” 

hope is blooming in her chest for the first time in a long time, so long she can barely remember what it feels like, and it’s so heavy it feels like it’s choking her. it’s a desperate, wild thing and it makes her into a desperate, wild thing too. 

“i don’t care if you come with me or not, but i need to go. i need--” 

“we left, lily. we left for a reason,” ted begins but lily interrupts. 

“i know, but it’s _james_ and he’s safe and he’s looking for _me_.”

“how much do you trust him?” andromeda asks suddenly, peering at lily. she’s got harry with one arm and tonks is clutching the other. “your friend peter, how much do you trust him?” 

“i trust him with my life,” lily answers, because it’s true. “i _have_ trusted him with my life. he’s one of my best friends.” 

“are you sure?” ted says and she stares at them both. 

“what are you saying? it’s _peter.”_

“he could be a spy,” argues ted. “or under the _imperio_ curse. you don’t know.” 

he’s right, of course he’s right. lily’s not an idiot and she realises there was something off about peter, something different. but she can’t quite bring herself to care, not right now, not when hope is within reach after so long. 

“i know it’s risky,” she says quietly. “it’s stupid and pigheaded, but if there’s any chance he’s right, and james is there… i have to go back, ted. surely you understand that. if it were you in my shoes and it could be andromeda, you’d do the same thing.” 

he looks at her for a second, then looks down at tonks. she’s watching them quietly, hair a muted brown, and he puts his hand on top of her head. 

“yeah,” he says, voice rough. “yeah, i would.” 

she nods, reaching for harry again. “you go on without me. i’ll go back with harry and we’ll meet you later, yeah?” 

andromeda nods, shifting closer to ted. he takes her hand. 

“lily,” says tonks, urgent, and lily pauses to listen. “if you come back, can you bring the dog sirius gave me? i forgot it at home.”

“oh, dora,” andromeda says on a sigh. lily chokes back a laugh. 

“i’ll do my best, love,” she promises, waving with her free hand. they wave back, worried, and she turns towards the alley she left fifteen minutes before. 

 

the house seems cold when she gets back, abandoned even though they left it just hours before. she shudders as she walks through the still-intact defences, hope and uneasiness battling in her stomach. 

she wishes the tonkses had come back with her. she knows it’s better that they stayed away but it’s eerie here, by herself, and she wishes she didn’t have to wait alone. she sets harry down on the sofa, casts a spell so he won’t roll off and hurt himself, and leaves him to sleep while she waits at the window. 

god. james is coming. _james,_ her james, is coming back to her after so long. they’ve spent too much time apart in the years they’ve been together, and lily’s never letting him out of her sight ever again. 

she catches sight of a blurry figure approaching the house and her heart jumps again, sinks when she notices another figure she recognises. it’s ted someone else, they’re running towards the house, and lily sucks in a breath as the light hits the other figure. 

“lily,” ted is yelling, bolting towards her as fast as his legs can take him but she’s already running, barrelling out the door with her wand outstretched. 

“ _you,_ ” she screams as she runs straight towards remus lupin. “you, how dare you show your face here? ted, go, _go_ , he’s a spy-- _stupefy_.” the spell knocks remus off his feet and he tumbles backwards. she keeps her wand on him and skids to a stop, chest heaving, just managing to take two breaths before ted crashes into her. they barely stay on their feet but lily’s arm flies up long enough for remus to get back up, shaking. 

“what the _fuck_ , ted, did you _hear_ what i just said? he sold us out to voldemort, the fucking _bastard--_ ” 

“it wasn’t me,” remus yells and she could scream again, for years and years and never stop.

“lily, you have to--” ted tries to talk but she yells over him. 

“it wasn’t you? you arsehole, you told voldemort where we were and you nearly killed harry, you might as well have killed james, fuck you. fuck you, remus. _stupefy_ ,” she says again but remus dodges the spell, dodges the next one, until ted yanks on her arm. 

“stop--” 

“--let go of me--” 

“--we have to _go--_ ” 

“--let me _go_ \--” ted gives up talking, gives up trying to wrestle her wand away, and starts dragging her instead, pulling her towards the house as fast as he can. “what the _fuck_ are you doing?” 

“remus wasn’t the spy! it wasn’t him and you’re in danger now, voldemort’s coming--” 

“what do you mean ‘remus wasn’t the spy’? of fucking course he was, did you not hear anything i said-- i will fucking _end_ you if you take another step towards me, remus john lupin, you _know_ i will--” 

“it was peter,” remus shouts, loud enough to stop her in her tracks, loud enough to shut her up, loud enough to reverberate around in her body and make her nauseous. “it wasn’t me. it was peter all along.”

“what? but i saw you, sirius and i both did, on halloween.” 

remus makes a face, shaking his head. he looks like he’s aged a decade in six months, hair lacklustre and face lined with weariness again. 

“i figured it out. i was coming to warn you that it was peter but i was too late, far too late. and then you disappeared and i couldn’t find you. i’ve been tracking him instead, hoping he’d lead me to you.” 

everything slots into place, all the little things she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to think about, until the whole picture’s clear. of course it wasn’t remus, it never could have been remus. he hadn’t known where they lived, hadn’t been able to give voldemort their address. they’d assumed peter had died, but peter was still alive. there’s no way it could’ve been remus acting as spy, no way for anyone to find where they lived unless their secret keeper gave it to them.

“it was peter? i don’t-- oh my god,” she breathes and pivots on her heel. “i told him where we live, i gave him the address, oh my _god--_ ” 

she’s running again, this time on her own, with the boys at her back. she makes it to the house and they all tumble in, slamming the door behind them. leaving ted to put the spells in place, she makes for the lounge where harry’s sleeping, where she left her boy, her precious boy. 

harry’s still asleep and she scoops him up, cradles him to her chest. “he’s not coming, is he? he didn’t escape with james; he’s been free this whole time and he’s bringing voldemort here to kill harry.” 

remus nods, face twisted in pain, and her heart drops out of her chest. “i’m sorry, lily.” 

“we have to go,” she says. “now, we have to go. holy fuck, i told peter about regulus, i told him every bloody thing, and we have to _go_.” 

they’re two steps away from the kitchen when the door bursts open, echoing like a gunshot as smoke pours through the opening. the all-too-familiar feeling of dread and unhappiness floods the room and she knows what’s happening, knows who will emerge from that entrance. 

she hikes the now-awake harry up on her hip and clutches her wand, lifting it up in the air. beside her, remus is doing the same thing, and ted on the other side, and fucking hell, this will be a bloodbath, but she’s not going down with a fight. 

“get out of here,” remus says softly, edging in front of her. “lily, take harry and go. i’ll hold him off--” 

but there’s nowhere to go, no other entrance, no way for her to apparate out. they’d charmed the house into a fortress for their safety, put up the strongest walls they knew to keep people out, but it allowed no space for them to flee. 

“i can’t,” she answers, grim and twists her wrist slightly. “there’s nowhere for me to go.” 

“lily--” remus starts but she cuts him off. 

“no, this ends now. i’m tired of running, and i’m tired of hiding. i’m not walking out that door unless voldemort is dead.” 

remus sighs, exasperated. “stubborn idiot.” 

“that’s me,” she manages before her nightmare materializes in front of her. 

voldemort has gotten more monstrous, if possible, since she’d last seen him. his skin is pale, almost waxy looking, and his eyes were bloodshot. it made him no less terrifying, and she wrinkles her nose against the smell of death that seemed to emanate from his robes. 

“lily evans,” he says and it echoes around the room strangely. 

“lily potter, actually,” she grinds out and bellatrix lestrange gasps from behind him. 

“you dare correct the dark lord? you, a mudblood, dare steal the name of someone of pure blood?” 

“technically, he gave it to me. isn’t that what happens in a marriage?” 

“silence!” voldemort shouts, holding up a pale hand. “we have not come to argue, we have come for the child.” 

“never,” lily says, clutching harry closer to her chest. voldemort frowns. 

“i am giving you one chance, mudblood. hand over the boy and i will spare you.” 

“never in a million fucking years,” she snarls. “ _stupefy!”_

voldemort waves away the spell effortlessly, lip curling up in a sneer, and the two boys on either side of her start dueling. ted’s up against his sister-in-law, flashing light between them, and remus has dolohov, but that leaves her to face voldemort alone. she sends another stunning spell towards him and backs away, throwing up a shield as best she can. 

harry’s wild, wriggling in her arms and screaming. it’s like deja vu but he’s stronger this time, bigger and hard to control, and she can’t fight with a child, can’t defend them both. remus sends a particularly strong spell dolohov’s way and dolohov is blown back, out of commission for a moment. 

“lily, run!” shouts remus, adding a second shield charm. it’s enough of a defence for her to fumble for the invisibility cloak she shoved down her shirt; she pulls is loose and throws it over her head. “nice one, evans!” 

voldemort blinks and then narrows his eyes. “that will not protect you for long,” he shouts and arcs his wand. remus crumples on the spot, hitting the floor with a thud that makes lily scream and keep screaming until remus shifts the tiniest bit. he’s alive, just barely, but he’s alive. 

she flattens herself against the wall, forcing her mouth closed so the sound stops. harry’s still fussing but it’s lost in the noise that is ted and bellatrix duelling. ted stuns bellatrix and she stumbles back, hissing. voldemort flicks his wand again and ted falls like a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

“now, lily evans,” he says, the sounds slithering through the room and making her shudder. “it’s just you, and me, and the boy. _accio--_ ”

“ _expelliarmus_!” someone cries and lily’s heart stops as she recognizes andromeda’s voice. bellatrix knows it too and she stiffens, turning around with a maniac cackle. 

“hello sister,” she sneers and all the plates fly out of the cupboard directly towards them. lily takes advantage of the chaos and runs, edging around voldemort and out the door. harry’s still sniffling, but the plates crashing cover up the sound, and lily squeezes past without anyone catching her. 

andromeda’s standing in the kitchen, crackling with fury and rage, with dishes circling around her in a whirl. lily bends over double, crouching near the floor, and escapes to the garden. 

“fuck,” she breathes and then freezes when someone makes a sound. “fuck, tonks? tonks is that you?” 

“mummy told me to hide,” tonks says in a small voice, one that makes lily’s already broken heart shatter all the more. “what’s going on?” 

lily throws back her hood so tonks can see her, gives harry a breath of fresh air. “where are you, darling? quickly.” 

she sees an arm waving from the bushes and she races towards it, dropping to her knees when she sees tonks’ eyes blinking up at her. “listen, i need your help. you take harry and you _run_ , okay love? you take him and you cover up in the cloak, and you run as fast as you can for as long as you can. and then, once you’re far away, you find someone-- a mum, okay?-- and you stay there until me or mummy come looking for you. you don’t go with anyone else, promise me.” 

“i promise,” tonks sniffles. “is daddy okay?” 

“i don’t know, love. do you understand what you’re meant to do?” 

“i understand, lily,” says the little girl, solemn and terrified. lily squeezes harry for a second and then hands him over, kissing the top of his head and trying not to cry. she pulls the cloak off next and wraps tonks in it, all but her head covered, and taps her on the nose. 

“you’re going to have to be very brave, tonks. very brave and very fast, for harry and for you. do you understand?” 

“i understand,” she repeats and lily hugs her too, kissing them both again. harry reaches for her, babbling, and she takes his hand. it feels like tearing away her heart, doing this, but there’s nothing else, nowhere else. everyone back in that room will die if she doesn’t go back, and at least the children might be able to survive.

“i love you. mummy loves you so much,” she whispers and gets to her feet. “now, tonks! cover your hood and run as fast as you can.” 

she waits until both of them disappear before her eyes, waits a second until the bushes stop rustling, and then races back into the kitchen again. 

she arrives just as bellatrix throws andromeda to the side. andromeda’s body hits the cupboards and she lands in the middle of all the broken porcelain on the ground, not moving. 

“i’m here,” lily yells, stepping back into view. “stop this, you’ve got me now. i’m here and i’m not running.” 

“where’s the boy?” voldemort asks, scowling, and lily shakes her head. 

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunts and voldemort sneers. invisible cords wrap around lily’s chest and tighten until she can’t breathe, tighten until her wand drops to the ground and her arms are bound to her sides.

“tell me what you’ve done with the mongrel.” 

a wild, wild laugh erupts from her throat, choked and desperate and unstoppable. behind voldemort, remus stirs. 

“never,” she gasps. the cords get tighter. “never.” 

“you’ll never see him again,” bellatrix cackles. “your precious boy will grow up an orphan, if he grows up at all.” 

“better an orphan than dead.” 

“so you say” voldemort purrs and she feels her feet lift off the ground. “tell us where he is and i’ll make your death quick, you mudblood wh--” 

remus’ arm snakes out and he mouths a spell, one that hits bellatrix squarely in the back. she topples and voldemort screeches with fury, turning his head to look behind him. 

“you’ll pay for that, werewolf,” he snarls and remus sags again, wand dropping to the ground. lily opens her mouth in a silent scream, no air in her lungs for noise, and kicks her legs. “where is the _boy._ ” 

there’s a clatter behind her and she drops as voldemort loses focus, hits the ground on her hands and knees, her head hitting the corner of the counter. 

“here, my lord,” peter announces and lily vomits. it’s peter the fucking traitor, and he’s dragging tonks behind him, her little arms around harry in a death grip and her feet scrabbling against the ground. “i found her trying to run.” 

“tonks,” lily mouths, trying to push herself up and blinking away the blood that’s streaming down her face. her wrist is broken and she collapses again. “no, tonks, no--” 

tonks screams bloody murder at the top of her lungs, fighting tooth and nail to get away, but peter is a fully grown adult and she’s a child. lily lunges for her wand with her good hand and sends a stunning spell at peter, makes him let go, and tonks _runs_ , the smart girl.

but voldemort will not let her go that easily. she jerks to a stop as if caught by a rope and is dragged backwards towards voldemort, still screaming. 

“who is the other child,” hisses voldemort and bellatrix struggles to her feet, wiping at her mouth. 

“nymphadora, my lord. the traitor’s bastard.” 

“nymphadora,” he muses. “one would almost think she’s a brave girl.” 

tonks stiffens, her hair flashing to red, and she glares at the two adults with all the derision her little six year old body can create. “don’t. call me. _nymphadora,_ ” she spits and lily’s chest fills with admiration for tonks, this brave little girl who faces down death itself and does not flinch. 

peter snarls, spitting blood on the ground, and crosses over to stand next to voldemort. the sight makes lily almost vomit again but there’s nothing left in her body to cough up. 

“we trusted you,” she forces out, gritting her teeth against the pain and straightening up to sit. “we trusted you, peter. you were our _friend_ and you betrayed us, you fucking _coward_.” 

“better a coward than dead,” he says mockingly. “better a traitor than second best.” 

“you’re still second best,” she taunts and he scowls, anger crashing over his face like waves crash onto the seashore. 

“enough,” voldemort commands. “this has gone on long enough. it is time.” 

“no,” lily says. she casts her first killing curse, the one she never wanted to cast, and directs it towards bellatrix. for the thousandth time that night, a body hits the ground and does not get up. voldemort screams loud enough to shatter a window, loud enough to make peter cower with his hands over his ears. it throws lily backwards until she slams into the counter, her head cracking against the sink and her chest full of fire. 

someone whimpers and she turns her head to see tonks crouching behind the overturned table, her eyes wide with fear and her hand locked around harry’s mouth so he can’t cry. lily focuses on her baby, her beautiful baby boy, and sobs once. 

_mama loves you so much. dada loves you so much._ she mouths the words because her body hurts too much to talk, her lungs feel like they’re collapsing inwards. 

voldemort screams again and his form nearly fills the room from lily’s vantage point. she watches as he towers over them, as he waves the table away and focuses on the two huddling children. 

_have mercy, please. not harry, please no, take me instead--_

voldemort raises his wand, his arm arched in a way that’s almost beautiful in its form, and points it directly at harry’s face. a sickening smile unfolds over his monstrous face, unnatural and horrifying, and he breathes in deeply. 

“avada kedavra,” he thunders and the words ring in lily’s ears, rebounding through the demolished room, as a beam of green light engulfs them all. 

 

hours, seasons, centuries pass. she sinks into the ground until flowers grow from her crushed rib cage, trees sprout from her cracked heart, vines twine around her shattered legs, and she becomes nothing but the grass, knows nothing but the green, green, green, green, green around her. 

 

“lily.”

 

something deep reaches within her and stirs, rummaging through her mind until her mind begins to wake up. it hurts and she cringes away from the reaching, tries to retreat into the darkness back into the safety of her head where there is no pain. 

“lily,” someone pleads, quiet and distorted. every letter is a hammer beating against her temples, but they repeat the word and do not stop. “lily, please wake up.”

she cracks her eyes and squints against the light seeping in, waiting for any sign of green, and opens them slowly when there is nothing but warm yellow. it takes a minute, but finally she pulls herself awake, blinking until the world swims into view. 

“lily, you can’t die now.” 

she blinks again and remus’ worried face focuses above her, caked in blood again. he stares down at her and his frown softens marginally when he sees her eyes. 

“oh my god, lily,” he breathes, lurching forward like he’s going to hug her and thought the best of it. he touches her forehead instead, lightly, and she feels a burst of pain where his finger pressed. “you’re alive.” 

her mouth is parched and her lips cracked, but she purses them anyway. 

“ha… rry.” the syllables barely make it past her lips but remus hears. 

“he’s fine,” he says, voice cracking. “he’s fine-- perfect-- and tonks is too. look.” he points away and she shifts just enough to see a pile of pillows, and the two children piled on top. “they’re sleeping, both of them. i promise.” 

“safe?” 

remus voice cracks again. “yeah. we’re safe.” 

she dips her chin in the tiniest of nods and closes her eyes again, succumbs to the weight dragging her back down. 

 

she wakes in a place that’s familiar-yet-not, clearly a hospital but not the hospital wing. the sheets are too starchy to be anywhere else and she frowns up at the ceiling. st mungo’s is the obvious answer, but st mungo’s isn’t safe. hasn’t been for a long time. 

her limbs feel like dead weight, numb and tingling, but they’re all there and intact. her chest is achy in way that suggests agonizing pain earlier, and there’s a dull headache digging at her temples. she swallows and it’s like gravel all the way down her throat. 

slowly, she shifts her body a millimetre at a time until she can push up, wrist twingeing, and look around for water, or _something_ that will get rid of the godawful taste on her tongue. there’s no water, but her wand’s on the nightstand just out of reach. 

the door opens with a start and a witch lily’s never seen before bustles in. lily’s got her wand in her hand before she can blink, pointing it at the stranger with a shaky grip. the witch raises an eyebrow. 

“be careful, miss,” she says, matter-of-factly, and lily holds her wand tighter. “you’ve had a very rough time.” 

“where am i?” lily asks and her voice is rough, pained. 

“st mungo’s.” 

“why?” 

the witch gives her a look. “you’ve just fought you-know-who and _won,_ and you ask why you’re in st mungo’s? are we sure they fixed your head up right?” 

“why st mungo’s?” 

“it’s a hospital.” 

“but i’m a mudblood,” lily says fiercely, feeling strangely satisfied when the witch flinches. “so why am i here.” 

“the war’s over,” she says, quiet, and lily blinks at her for a second. 

“what?” 

“the war, it’s done. voldemort is dead. whatever happened in that cottage, whatever you did, it killed him.” 

“i don’t… i don’t believe you.” 

“you don’t have to believe me. his body’s being held at the ministry, you can see it if you’d like. not until you’re fixed up and better, but i’m sure they’ll let you have a look.” 

“he can’t-- he can’t be dead.” 

the witch tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “why not?” 

“because.” 

because so many reasons. because he’s voldemort and he can’t die, can’t be killed. because she has spent so many years planning and hoping for this, and it can’t have ended like that. because so many of her friends have died to bring an end to voldemort, friends who were stronger and more talented, so how can it be her who defeated him at last? 

she realises the witch is still waiting for an answer, so she swallows again. “because i didn’t kill him.” 

“well, someone killed him, because he’s dead as could be now. like i said, you can go see yourself once we let you leave.” 

lily sags against the pillows, all the energy out of her suddenly. “can i have some water, please?” the healer hums and a glass appears by lily’s head. she takes it, drinks until it’s gone. “when can i leave?” 

“when you’re not healing from major internal injuries,” says the witch. “a few days’ time, probably.” 

“a few _days_?” 

“at least, yeah.”

“wait. my baby, where is he? please, i need to see him.” 

the witch’s eyes soften, just a little, and she nods. “of course. he’s fine, i promise. i’ll have your husband bring him in, yeah?” 

lily’s heart jumps so hard it hurts. “my husband?” 

“yeah, i’ll just go and get him, alright?” 

“alright,” lily says weakly but the healer’s already out the door. lily lets out a shaky breath and reaches up to her hair. it’s limp and dry, and she’s probably a mess, but james wouldn’t care. 

the door pushes open again and she nearly sobs with relief, then with disappointment when remus steps in. 

“remus?” she asks and he stops, looks at her worriedly. 

“it’s me,” he says, shifting harry in his arms. “was i not supposed to come? they told me it was alright.” 

“no, it’s fine,” says lily with a sniff. ”it’s just that she called you my husband, and i thought…” 

he winces. “i’m sorry. it was the only way they’d let me in to see you. i didn’t think about how it would sound when you woke up.” 

“it’s fine, it’s done. let me see harry, please.” 

remus nods and comes forward, twisting harry around so he can see her. he’s whole and beautiful, and lily’s heart nearly stops again seeing him. 

“mama!” harry screeches and nearly tumbles out of remus’ arms trying to get to her. she catches him, halfway between laughing and crying, and crushes him in a hug, covering his face in kisses.

“oh my god, _harry_!” 

“mama, mama, mama!” harry sings back, patting at her face with his little hands. she laughs but it sounds more like a sob, pressing his fingers to her mouth so she can kiss those too. 

“my perfect, perfect boy,” she says and runs her palms over his body, making sure every part of him is unharmed. he’s fine, all fine, until she pushes back his hair. there, on his forehead, is a thin cut in the shape of a lightning bolt. “what happened to you, sweetheart?” 

“we don’t know,” remus says. “tonks has one too, on her cheek.” 

she kisses the scratch, smoothing her hands through harry’s hair, and looks back at remus. “what happened? how did voldemort die?” 

“reckon you know more about that than i do,” he tells her with a sigh, sitting in the chair next to her bed. “i hit bellatrix with that spell and that’s the last thing i remember before waking up. the room was a disaster, bodies everywhere, and harry was wailing. it was…” he grimaces, going pale under his scars. “it was like a war had just happened, really.” 

“bodies?” she repeats quietly. 

“bellatrix,” he says, ticking off on his fingers. “voldemort. dolohov, he was the first one dead. you, unconscious in the kitchen. andromeda, ted. and peter.” 

“peter,” she snarls, covering harry’s ears with her hands. “the fucking _rat_ of a man. is he dead too?” 

“yes,” remus replies grimly and leaves it at that. she can tell by his face that he won’t say anymore and she doesn’t blame him. the pain of peter’s betrayal is like a bruise, sore and achy. 

lily reaches towards remus, touches her fingers to the side of his face. there’s a real bruise there that’s not just emotional and it’s purple and mottling, spanning from his ear halfway down his chin. 

“remus,” she murmurs and his jaw tenses. “remus, i’m so sorry.” 

that makes him turn, giving her a strange look. “what for?” 

“i doubted you, we all did. we believed the worst of you and i’m sorry. that wasn’t… that wasn’t _right_ of us to do. can you forgive us?” 

he stares at her for a long moment, taking in deep breaths, before a smile tugs at the side of his mouth. “you potters,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly. “so bloody noble all the time.” 

“moony, i mean it.” 

“i forgive you,” he says seriously, catching her hand with his and giving it a tiny squeeze. “there’s nothing to forgive, but i’ll offer it anyway.” 

“thank you. love you so much.” 

“luh you!” harry announces and it makes them laugh, even though the laughter hurts lily’s chest. she kisses his cheek. 

“that’s right, we love our uncle remus.” she brushes the hair off harry’s forehead and catches sight of the lightning cut again. “nymphadora, you said she’s alright?” 

“as alright as she can be, given the circumstances. it’s a lot for a six year old, and she’ll have to deal with it somehow. but she’s alright for now.” 

“remus,” lily says quietly, solemnly, and he frowns. “is ted… did ted die?” 

“yes,” remus answers after a long breath. “ted died, yeah.” 

“oh my god. merlin, no.” 

“andromeda’s alive, thank god, but bellatrix killed him.” 

“and bellatrix?” 

he frowns, handing harry lily’s cup for him to drink from. “dead as well. a killing curse, that one.” 

“that one was me.” 

“i figured. i don’t remember what spell i threw at her, but i knew it wasn’t that one.” 

“i didn’t know what else to do,” lily says quietly and remus pats her on the shoulder. 

“i know. you did the right thing, whatever the right thing was. no one will say otherwise.” 

“i’m so tired of death. i’m so tired of everyone dying, remus.” 

“it’s over, lily,” he tells her and she hugs harry closer to stop herself from crying. “it’s over now and we don’t ever have to go back.” 

 

andromeda comes once. she’s pale, a dazed look hanging around her being, and she’s fragile in a way lily never thought andromeda could be. 

“i’m leaving,” she says, weak. “me and nymphadora, after we leave here.” 

lily nods, understands. “where will you go?” 

“paris,” says andromeda. “there’s nothing left for us in england anymore, and there… there we can have a new life. away from everything.” 

“he died a hero, ‘dromeda,” lily tells her and she flinches at the nickname, turning her head away. “i’m sorry it ended this way. i didn’t mean for it to happen.” 

“don’t,” she whispers. “i can’t-- i came to say goodbye.” 

“goodbye, then.” 

she nods once, chin trembling, and stands. her hand’s on the door when she hesitates, glances over her shoulder. “i wish…” she trails off, but lily hears everything unsaid in that sentence. 

“i know,” she replies ruefully. “i know.” 

if only everything had been different. 

 

no war is wrapped up that easily. there are too many death eaters on the loose, too many horrible things that have to be unravelled. and besides. her boys are still missing.

they won’t let her leave st mungo’s until she’s healed enough, three full days after she thinks she should’ve left. she’s restless, uneasy, because they won’t let harry stay with her overnight and remus is the best babysitter but having harry out of her sight after so long makes her antsy. 

but finally, finally, they clear her to leave, and she steps outside the doors and doesn’t look back. remus meets her with a change of clothes and harry on his hip. 

“here,” he says, handing her the bag. “change, and then we’ll go.” 

“where are we going?” 

“we’re dropping harry off and finding james and sirius.” 

her hands stop their rummaging. “what?” 

he doesn’t look at her, sets harry down on the ground and lets him toddle around. “you heard me.” 

“where are we dropping harry off?” she asks, half laughing in disbelief. “all of our friends are dead or captured or traumatized half to death. andromeda’s gone and--” 

“not andromeda,” says remus. “did you know the prewett twins had a sister?” 

“i… no?” 

“younger. she’s married with a gaggle of children. think she’s just had a baby, actually. her and arthur stayed out of the war because of it, but she’s sympathetic. i met her at the funeral.” 

“so you’re just going to leave my baby with a total stranger?” 

“no, she’s not a stranger. we became friends-- her husband’s a little bit of a nutter, but in a kind way. he’s mad about muggle things and he’d owl me questions after he found out i was a halfblood. i stayed with them a few nights after… after halloween.” 

lily flashes back to the twins’ funeral but she can’t remember much; it was so long ago, a lifetime, and harry had been so little. she vaguely remembers a distraught woman with a few redheaded children, but that’s it. 

“are you sure about this, remus?” 

“i’m sure,” he says without hesitation. “besides, harry might have fun around all those kids.” 

“just how many are there?” 

remus frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. “i’m not quite sure? at least three. i know she’s got at least one set of twins.” 

“and she’s alright with babysitting one more child?”

“molly said, and i quote, ‘what’s one more for an afternoon?’,” he replies with a snort. lily likes her already. 

“fine,” she says begrudgingly. “let me change and i’ll be ready, yeah?” 

he nods, crouching down to stop harry from eating a dandelion. lily nips into the bathroom and pulls the clothes over her head. they’re old things, ones she reckons she left at remus’ at some point, and they fit strangely on her frame. too loose, now. she shrinks the waistband of her skirt a few inches so it doesn’t slip down too much and ties her hair back, out of the way. 

“ready,” she says as she steps outside. remus offers her his arm and away they go, landing a few feet away from a ramshackle building. lily’s charmed, even as she’s half afraid it will tumble over in a stiff breeze. 

remus doesn’t give it a second look, just goes up to the door and knocks loudly, smiling when a chorus of sounds fill the air. it wrenches open and a smiling woman appears, a baby in her arms and another peeking out from behind her legs. 

“remus!” she says, warm, and leans in to smack a kiss on his cheek. “you’ve not been eating.” 

“um, no--” 

molly clicks her tongue. “you promised me you would.” 

“he’s the worst at that,” lily offers as harry puts his head on her shoulder, shy. “i’ve tried so many times but he won’t cook for himself.” 

“terrible. a grown man and he won’t eat.” 

“alright, this is not what i had in mind when i wanted you two to meet,” complains remus and his cheeks are the tiniest bit red. “we’ve got things we need to get to; you can feed me later, molly.” 

molly sniffs, stepping away so they can make their way into the warm house. “i intend to, remus. and lily as well-- you are lily, right?” 

“yes,” says lily, blinking. “and this is harry.” molly waves, grinning at him, and harry hides his face in lily’s shirt. “he’s a bit shy at the moment.” 

“that’s quite alright. so is ron,” she says, motioning to the toddler still clinging to her legs. “it’s just that age, you know. oh, billy!” 

a slightly grubby boy skids to a stop, turning around with a hint of a guilty look on his face. “yes?” 

“wash up, please. i need you to take ginny and put her to bed for me.” 

“but _mum_ \--” 

“no, no arguing. you’ll wake her up and it’ll be a mess for everyone. she’s quite a solid napper, this one, but she has to be,” she tells lily as the boy scrubs his hands under the faucet. “six brothers means there’s an awful lot of noise around, you see.” 

lily presses her lips together to stop from smiling. “that’s a lot of people.” 

“mmm, they have their uses,” molly says cheerily and hands bill the baby. “go-getters and errand runners and such.” 

bill screws up his nose. “it’s slave _labour_. we’re treated like house elves!” 

“yes, yes, dear. we’ve all heard your complaints many times before. and don’t think i haven’t forgotten your socks.” 

“that was charlie!” 

“sure it was,” molly says and bill grumbles under his breath, stomping carefully up the stairs with his baby sister in his arms. molly watches him go, making sure no one slips, and turns back to lily and remus. “right, now that that’s settled, tea?” 

 

it takes a while, but they eventually make their exit. harry barely notices them going, too busy playing with new toys to care. lily smiles at her shock of dark hair among all the red and turns to molly.

“thank you,” she says earnestly. “i really appreciate it.” 

molly touches lily’s cheek, a brief gesture, smiles. “of course, dear. it’s the least i could do after everything. your boy saved the world, after all.” 

lily jumps at that. “i-- thank you. goodbye.” 

“be safe!” molly calls as they wave their way out. lily lets out a shaky breath as soon as the door shuts behind them. remus gives her a look.

“you alright?” 

“i forget sometimes,” she says softly. “that harry’s a saviour.” 

“it’s a lot for a two year old.” 

“he’s not two yet,” lily corrects, even as her heart seizes in her chest. “god, what are we going to do when everyone fawns over him?”

remus stops, kisses the side of her head. “you’re not doing this alone anymore, lily. you’ve got me, and james, and sirius. and molly now, and andromeda.” 

“if we find james and sirius.” 

“we’ll find them,” remus says, mouth in a grim line. “that i know for sure.” 

she doesn’t ask him how he knows because she understands. he can’t take another death, not now when they’ve _won._ neither can she. 

he threads his arm through hers and squeezes her bicep. “ready?” 

“yeah. where are we going?” 

“you’ll see,” he says and they apparate away, landing in front of the ministry. she stays silent as they enter the bathrooms, get flushed down the toilet and land in the atrium. she stays silent as she takes in the layout, staring blankly at the grotesque sculpture that takes up most of the room and the utter destruction everywhere. 

something cracks under her feet and she lifts her shoe to see broken glass, spread over a scratched flyer. it’s half ripped, but she can make out _mudblood_ and _dirty_ and _stolen magic._ she gags. 

remus squeezes her arm again and leads her to the elevators, hitting the button for the auror’s offices. he’s silent too, not making a sound as they slide down deeper underground until the elevator lands with a ding. 

the auror offices are in a similar state of chaos but it’s a motionless sort of chaos, like the eye of a storm. gaunt and bedraggled people are at every seat, and they all turn to look at the pair as they cross through the desks. lily shrinks away, wondering why she’s here, until she spots a familiar face down at the end. 

“hagrid,” she gasps, taking off running towards him. he lets out a huff of surprise when she barrels into him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. 

“what’s this?” he asks gruffly, carefully shaking himself free so he can take a look at her. “lily evans? is that you?” 

“it’s me,” she says around a sniff and wipes at her eyes. “potter, now.” 

“‘course. i knew that.” he taps his nose. “is that what yer here for? james?” 

“is he here?” she asks hopefully. hagrid looks over the top of her head at remus, grimacing.

“erm… no. but we found where he is, we think. you came just in time, we’re just about to head out.” 

“we?” 

“me ‘n moody. there’s a few others as well, ones that wouldn’t mind taking a crack at a death eater’s lair. he said there’ll be a few nasties in place. merlin knows i don’t trust the rat farther than i can throw him, but it’s urgent.” 

lily stiffens, her arm darting out to catch his. “rat? what rat?” 

“i shouldn’t have said that, i should not have said that.” 

“hagrid, what rat?” 

he laughs nervously, patting awkwardly at her hand. “well, erm. it’s severus, actually.” 

“ _severus?_ severus snape? to rescue james and sirius, his nemeses?” she asks, tossing a look at remus, who shrugs. 

“it’s part of the deal he worked out with dumbledore. madness, in my opinion, but albus seems to trust him in some part. he knows about the dungeons, so he’s leading us along.” 

“isn’t he a death eater?” 

“reformed,” hagrid says scornfully. “or so says dumbledore. and i don’t trust the weasel but i trust albus, so he’s coming along.” 

that doesn’t settle any of lily’s nerves. she’s not sure how much she trusts dumbledore herself, not after what happened on halloween and everything past. he could’ve done so much more, in hindsight, and he didn’t. 

still. 

“if it gets sirius and james back, then fine,” she says. “when do we leave?” 

hagrid frowns at her. “what?” 

“when do we leave? to rescue them?” 

“we don’t…” remus starts, wincing. “i don’t-- that’s not up to me.” 

“then who?” neither of them answer and she glares, twirling an errant piece of hair around her finger. “remus john lupin, please tell me you did not bring me here to sit around and wait while _someone else_ rescued my husband.” 

“in the worst case scenario, theoretically, that will happen.” 

lily sighs. “remus--” 

“but best case scenario, they let you go with us.” 

“who’s ‘they’?” 

remus nods over her shoulder to the back office. “mad eye and dumbledore.”

“i’m going,” she snaps. “i’m going and no one can tell me otherwise.” 

 

mad eye tells her otherwise. lily tries to argue but he refuses, talking over her until she stops, halfway to tears. 

“it’s my husband,” she says desperately. “please, alastor.” 

“that’s exactly why we can’t have you come along,” mad eye replies, as gently as mad eye is able. “it’s too much, you’re too emotionally involved. we don’t know what we’re up against, don’t know what we’ll find there, and we don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“i’ve seen worse--” 

“you’ve just gone through shit. you faced voldemort and barely walked away from it; hell, you shouldn’t be out of hospital now, honestly. there’s all sorts of nasty things in the lestrange manor and we can’t have you there. you’re a liability, lily. we can’t protect you and rescue people at the same time.” 

lily glares at him but doesn’t argue, knows he’s telling the truth. “you bring them straight to me, mad eye. i don’t care how they are, i want to see them immediately.” 

“we’ll do our best.” 

seeing severus again is like a shock of ice water to her system. it takes a lot for her to stop herself from physically recoiling away, to forget who he was and what he did and how thoroughly he broke her heart. she stays at the edge of the group, hiding as best she can behind remus’ lean frame, because she may be an adult but she’s not ready to face him right now. 

he sees her anyway but keeps his distance, eyes sliding over to her every few seconds with a desperate, unhappy expression that she doesn’t want to figure out. he comes over to talk to her when moody’s done, inches his way towards her like he’s scared. 

_good,_ she thinks savagely. he should be scared of her. it’s that thought that stacks her spine up, straightens her back and her chin to look him in the eye. severus snape has a lot to answer to, and he will answer to it. 

he steps right in front of her and opens his mouth to speak, but lily cuts him off. 

“you told voldemort about the prophecy,” she says bluntly, harsh. severus gapes at her. “you told him knowing he would go after me, go after my _family._ ” 

“lily, i--” 

“and you did it anyway.” 

he snaps his mouth closed. remus shifts beside her, like he’s torn between stepping between them and pulling her back. lily ignores him. 

“i didn’t… i regretted it instantly.” 

“you still told,” she repeats, snarling. “god, what kind of person _does_ that.” 

“i switched sides,” snape says desperately. “i’m here, rescuing your… husband, aren’t i?” he spits out _husband_ like the word hurts, lips curling up in an involuntary sneer. 

“you’re here because you have to be.” 

“i’m here because i love you,” he snaps and his eyes widen when he realise what he’s said. lily refuses to let herself feel guilty.

“doesn’t matter, does it? you still betrayed me so many times over. one act of… of distorted _love_ isn’t going to erase all that.” 

“we were friends,” he mumbles and lily stares at him, disgust and annoyance and sadness all roiling in her belly. 

“yeah, we were once. and it’s your own fault that we’re not any longer,” she tells him. he refuses to hang his head but pink still tinges his cheeks, flushes his sallow skin. “you were a death eater, severus.” 

“is this the end of it, then?” 

“no. no, it’s not. this friendship ended a long time ago. i’m done with you now.” 

“lily--” he says but she runs, races out of the room and down the corridor until she finds a bathroom, blindly pushes her way through the door and stands in the empty space. she’s shaking, flashing between hot and cold, disconnected from her body. 

she breathes and she breathes and she breathes until the anger dissipates from her skin and her heart settles back into the cavity of her chest. 

 

she’s not sure how long she sits in the auror office, huddled at the desk in the corner with her head in her hands. time flows strangely here, bunching and lengthening with no rhyme or reason. she can’t get her mind to focus on anything, can’t get her mouth to make any words, so she just sits and stares at the whorls in the wooden desktop.

remus sits beside her, one of his long legs pulled up and balanced on the chair, his cheek balanced on top of it. he’s picking at the frayed edges of his robes, tugging on string after string until lily’s worried he’ll unweave it all away. the snip of thread echoes in the weirdly silent room, sounding like tiny gunshots in lily’s ears. 

the first time she hears the elevator, she bolts up in her chair and watches the door like a meerkat, peering through the room and willing james to walk in. he doesn’t, nor does he on the third, seventh, sixteenth time the fucking elevator rumbles. 

“i can’t do this,” she announces, standing up so quickly her chair falls over backwards. remus jumps at the noise. “i’m going.” 

“erm… where?” 

“i don’t know. anywhere. i’m going to go walk upstairs.” 

“lily--” 

“come and get me if something happens,” she says and stalks away before remus can answer, walks past the desks of staring aurors and jams her thumb on the elevator button. it’s too slow and too fast all at once, making her dizzy, and she’s on her way up to the ground floor before her brain can catch up with what she’s doing. 

the atrium is silent and strangely empty, like it’s the middle of the night instead of the middle of the day. well. it could be the middle of the night; she has no idea how long she was sat downstairs without any windows. it’s still covered in glass and shredded flyers, remnants of a battle that she had no hand in. 

she paces the floor in wide circles around the statue in the middle, not daring to get close. she counts her steps idly because it keeps her mind busy and stops her from looking too closely at the world around her. 

it’s around step one hundred that she realises there’s water somewhere, hears the gentle hum of a fountain, and follows it to the very edge of the statue. the ministry had a fountain, she remembers now, and a pool. it’s still there, just less obvious, and she finds the edge of it with her toes. 

the pool looks just like the floor in the dimness of the room, and it’s not hard to miss. the spouts on the other side, she thinks, and it’s deceptively serene three inches from her feet. it looks deep, looks peaceful, and lily remembers the crashing of the sea next to the cottage in wales. 

she’d wanted to drown, all those years ago, in the midst of a war that was bad but not yet horrible and so far from being over. she had wanted to step out over the side of the cliff and crash into the water, had wanted to let her clothes weigh her down until she sank to the bottom of the sea and left all of her terror behind. 

there’s something about being underwater that makes her think all her problems will go away, something about it that allows her to forget her life. something about it that takes her away. 

her toes are wet through her shoes. she balances on one leg and dips the other in the water, feels the coolness around her ankle. 

she doesn’t want to drown anymore, but she’d really like the noise to stop. 

she steps out on a breath, holds it in her lungs as she tips over into the pool and crashes into the water. 

it’s not as deep as it looks, only mid-waist, but she allows her legs to buckle under her so her head gets wet and her hair floats around her face, wisps. it’s still and dark and she forgets herself here. her lungs expand like they want to take a breath but she clamps her mouth closed, sighs out a few bubbles through her nose. 

her mind is blissfully blank and she could stay under forever. 

 

except, her body wasn’t meant to be without air this long and her chest starts to burn. she holds it, and holds it, and holds it until she can’t anymore, the inside of her body painted with fire, and she erupts from the water with a gasp. 

the room is cold on her wet skin and she instantly starts to shake, teeth rattling in her mouth. she’s gulping in deep, shuddering breaths and running her hands over the goosepimples on her arm. her skirt’s clinging to her legs and her hair’s a mess hanging around her face, but there’s something settled in her chest now. she can handle her rage and her fear now. 

she tips her head back to look up at the statue looming over her, stares at the face of the sneering monster sitting on a throne of distorted bodies, and she is not scared any longer. 

“fuck you,” she shouts. “you’re dead and i’m alive, so fucking alive, and you did not break me. fuck _._ you.” 

and then she laughs and laughs and laughs because there is nothing left for her to do now except cackle in the face of what did not destroy her. 

 

the room fills but she’s too caught up in herself to notice, head tipped back and wet hair streaming down her body, until she hears her name. slowly, she straightens up, pushes back her fringe, and peers at the group of people gathered on the far side of the room. 

the group is grubby and bruised and far away, but she would recognize him anywhere, would recognize him from eons away, and once again she is _running._

james meets her in the middle and they crash together, two galaxies realigning themselves, a supernova exploding out again. she is soaked and he is filthy, but it does not matter, nothing else matters, because lily has her hands cupped around james’ face and those are james’ eyes and james’ mouth and _james_. 

“you’re alive,” she chokes out, resolving never to let him go, and then she crumbles. 

 

all his bruises are old, he reassures her. all his bruises are old and his cuts are nearly healed, and he’s really not so badly hurt as everyone thinks he is. 

“you were in there for months,” she says, remembering how bad it was when it was only weeks. “last time--” 

“turns out you don’t have a lot of time to torture people when you’re terrorizing a country,” james says mildly, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. she threaded her fingers through his and has untangled them for so long. he catches the worried look on her face and kisses her hand, then her cheek. “i’m fine.”

he is not fine. he’s so much thinner than he was before, like someone hollowed him out with a spoon, and it nearly makes her cry to see the way his skin stretches over his bones. there are scars, new ones, that she can only see flashes of but knows they span his body. there’s a wariness, a tiredness, to him that was not there before, and lily wonders if he is going to break eventually. 

he asks after harry and she promises james he’s safe, promises that he’s laughing and happy and fully alive. james relaxes at the news, lets out a deep sigh that seems wrenched out of him. 

sirius is there too, curled up in a pile of coats in his dog form, asleep. it was easier for him that way, james explained. not so many things to have to think about when you’re an animal. remus sits by sirius’ snout with his knees pulled up to his chest, head leaned against the wall, and his eyes closed too. 

mad eye won’t let them go yet and she’s not really sure why, didn’t really listen to his reasonings, so they’re sitting on the floor with her legs over his. 

if it wasn’t for the heaviness in lily’s bones, she’d almost feel seventeen again.

“what happened to you?” she whispers, staring at the way his knees look like they’ll poke through his trousers if he’s not careful. he sighs. “you don’t have to talk about it. i just… i had to ask.” 

he threads his arm around her waist and tucks her closer, fitting her against his side with her head under his chin. 

“it was hell. the lestranges didn’t torture me so much, not like what happened before, but it still was hell. hours and hours in a tiny cell and nothing to do but wait.” he pinches her arm lightly, like he’s reminding himself that she’s real. “they were looking for you. they kept trying to ask me where you were, thought they could beat it out of me.” 

“james--” 

“they figured out i had no idea after a while. didn’t stop them from trying, though. they moved onto sirius when they caught him and that was almost worse. i could hear him, and they knew he knew, and he didn’t say anything.” 

she tilts her head to look at him but he’s staring at sirius instead, some unreadable expression playing out on his face. “bellatrix loved hurting him. with me, it was fun, but with him… it was something else, something personal. she barely left him alone sometimes.” 

“fuck.” 

“yeah,” says james and doesn’t elaborate anymore, shakes his head and bites down on his lip. it takes him a moment to come back to himself, for the colour to creep into his face, and he glances down at her. “your turn.” 

“what?” 

“rumour is you fought voldemort and _won._ ” 

she pauses, absentmindedly twisting her healed wrist. “i don’t… i don’t know if you can call it winning.” 

“oh?” 

“it was more like dumb luck,” she admits and he shrugs, making her cheek bounce against his shoulder. 

“tell me everything,” says james, settling back against the wall. “from the beginning.” 

so she does, in the strange twilight of the ministry, in a hushed voice and tucked up against her husband’s body. she tells it all, from andromeda and ted all the way to nymphadora’s scar that matches harry’s now, every single moment of that awful night. it reels from her like ribbon unwinding, spilling out into the space between them until james picks it back up and puts it safely away. 

 

lily’s almost asleep when moody and dumbledore come out the office, her head pillowed on james’ thigh and his hands brushing through her hair. she cracks her eyes open at the sound of footsteps, watches as two pairs land right in front of them. 

“can we go?” james asks softly, but there’s a harshness running through his voice. 

“‘course,” grunts mad eye.

“good. i want to go home.” 

“ah,” says dumbledore and it makes lily tense; nothing good is going to come out of his mouth next. “i don’t know if that’s the best idea.” 

“why not?” says james. “where else would i go?” 

there’s a pause. lily can see dumbledore and mad eye exchanging a glance. 

“we thought… it might be best for you to spend a night or two at st mungo’s under observation. just as a precaution,” says dumbledore. 

“do i have any broken bones?” james asks, light, and neither of them answer. “am i under some sort of curse?”

“no,” admits mad eye.

“then i don’t see why i can’t just go home.” 

“you’ve spent months under the influence of dark magic, mr potter,” dumbledore replies. “while there aren’t any immediate dangers, there might be long term effects that we need to be aware of.” 

“and if there are any, i will let you know as soon as possible,” james answers patiently. “but i’d prefer to be observed at home where i can start the healing process.” 

“potter--” growls mad eye but james interrupts. 

“with all due respect, professor, we’ve all been under the influence of dark magic for _years_.” 

dumbledore looks at james for a long, long breath, peering over the tops of his half-moon spectacles like he’s trying to see inside james. james lifts his chin the tiniest bit and doesn’t look away. 

“very well,” dumbledore says, finally. “but if there is anything, mr potter--” 

“i will notify you immediately,” recites james. dumbledore nods, the gesture almost unhappy, and begins to step away. 

but something’s been nagging lily for days, weeks even, and so she sits up. 

“where were you?” she asks, pushing her hair away from her face impatiently. dumbledore pauses. “all those weeks, months, with voldemort in power and where were you?” 

“underground,” he answers simply. she stares up at him, her former headmaster, one of her former heroes and feels _nothing,_ none of the adoration or respect that once was there. “fighting.” 

“and what good did that do?” 

he’s half in shadow and she can’t read the expression on his face, can’t even begin to comprehend what’s running through his mind. he doesn’t answer and she doesn’t fight for one, lets him walk back into the office, silent, and watches him leave, equally as silent. 

james’ fingers brush against her arm, tentative and soft. “let’s go home,” he says quietly, earnestly. “wherever that home may be.” 

“i don’t… we don’t have a home anymore. they’re gone, all of them. destroyed.” 

“i’ve got room,” remus pipes up. “plenty of it. you can take my bed, it’s the biggest. we’ll put sirius in the guest room.” 

“where will you sleep?” sirius asks, back in human form. his voice is low and gravelly, hair stringy in his face. there are bruises on his cheek, dark ones, and the darkest settle under his eyes. he looks like he’s about to crack. 

remus shrugs. “we’ll figure something out.” 

“what time is it?” lily asks and remus glances down at his wrist. 

“half two.” 

“in the _morning?_ ” lily exclaims and remus nods, eyebrows pulled together. “fucking _shit_ \-- harry. merlin, i’m a horrible mother, the worst mother.” 

“hey now,” says james, rubbing her back. she can’t see him with her face buried in her hands but she can feel him exchanging glances with the other two. “you’re not.” 

“i _am._ fuck, i just left him there, dumped him without a second thought and it’s been _hours_.” 

“he’s being looked after,” remus reassures and she’s not sure if it’s for her or for james. “molly knew it would be a while. she was prepared for it--” 

“i pawned him off on a near stranger.” 

“molly prewett?” sirius asks suddenly. 

“weasley now,” says remus. “but yeah.” 

sirius wipes his nose on his sleeve and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “she’s one of my cousins.” 

“everyone’s a cousin,” lily grumbles. 

“no, but a good cousin. harry’s fine, i’d reckon. doesn’t she have a million children?” 

“seven.” 

“merlin,” sirius chokes out. “same thing.” 

“hey,” james whispers and it’s just for her. she turns her head and his nose bumps against her cheek, breath warm on her face. “you’re not a terrible mother, i promise.” 

“i am,” she whispers back. “i just left him there. after everything, i just dropped him and ran.” 

“you did what you needed to do. harry’s safe, he’s probably having the time of his life being doted on by seven kids. some socialization is good for him. we’ll pick him up in the morning, right as rain.” 

“i suppose,” she says miserably. he bumps his nose against her cheek again. 

“if you two lovebirds are ready,” sirius says in a bored tone and it almost sounds like him, “then i’d really like a shower and bed.” 

they leave, walking gingerly through the echoing ministry until they reach london. remus’ flat is small and cold, but it’s there and it’s safe, and that’s really all lily wants anymore. 

true to his word, remus gives them his queen bed and they leave remus and sirius to fight over other sleeping arrangements. lily pulls james into the room and shuts the door, locks it, just in case. 

james is sitting on the edge of the bed already, looking pale and exhausted, and lily goes to stand between his legs. 

“i missed you, james,” she tells him, hands in his hair, tipping his head back so she can see his eyes. he settles his hands on her waist. 

“i know. i know. i missed you too.” 

she takes a tiny step closer so her knees bump against the mattress. “i decided you’re not allowed to leave any more. you’re not allowed to go anywhere unless i can see you.” 

“i’m okay with that,” james answers, swallowing hard. 

“i’ve lost you so many times, james,” she says and there’s a lump in her throat now, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

“you haven’t lost me. i’m right here. look, lily.” 

it’s the sound of her name that makes her break, makes the tears tip over onto her cheeks, and she ducks down to kiss james before he sees, smothers the half-formed sob against his mouth. 

he falls back on his back and brings her with him, settles her nicely on top of him and holds her there with his hands. her body doesn’t fit against them like it used to; both have them have shrunk and hardened and it’s strange but it’s not bad. 

his palms are hot on her back and her shirt’s rucked up halfway to her shoulders. she can feel his fingers tracing the waistband of her skirt, gentle, and she sits up. james’ eyes are bright watching her and his hair’s a mess against the duvet, flushed and breathing hard. he just watches her, doesn’t move any which way, waits for her cue. 

she touches a finger to his lips, tracing the curve of it, and he presses a kiss against the tip. 

“love you,” she tells him, quiet, and pulls her shirt over her head. her skirt’s next, but it’s difficult and she struggles to untangle it for a second. “you could help,” she remarks and he grins, eyes drifting down the length of her body.

“i’m enjoying the show.”

“you’re awful.” 

“maybe,” he says and helps her drag her skirt down her legs. he rolls when she’s free, shucking off his own clothes, and bending down to press his forehead against hers. “i missed you.” 

“you said that already.” 

“i don’t think i could say it enough. not after--” 

she stops him with her fingers against his mouth again, shaking her head. 

“i don’t want to talk about it. i just want you to fuck me, okay?” 

“i… okay,” he says, a little dazed. she hitches her leg up and pulls him down closer. 

“please, james,” she nearly begs. she’s on the edge of tears again and she doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything except she just wants him as close as humanly possible, wants the touch of him burned into her skin so she can’t ever ever forget. 

maybe he feels the same or maybe he can just see the desperation winding through her body, but he dips his head and kisses her, slow, drugging kisses. she closes her eyes and lets herself forget everything but james, lets her world narrow down to just the space between their bodies and nothing else. 

 

she creeps downstairs when the morning light is still soft, still pouring in through the windows like honey. james is still asleep in bed, flat on his stomach with an arm outstretched towards her. but she can’t sleep, keeps jerking herself awake. there are too many dead on her conscious for her to rest, too many cracks for nightmares to get through. 

remus is awake too, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee steaming in front of him. she’s not surprised to see him there, just pours herself a cup and joins him. 

she waits until her mug’s half empty to speak. “what happened to peter?” 

remus has his face turned away from her, facing the window, and she watches the muscles clench under the skin. 

“what do you mean?” he asks in measured tones. 

“i know he wasn’t dead when voldemort… when i passed out. i know he wasn’t, but barely anyone’s mentioned him since. what happened to him?” 

remus’ jawline is sharp in this light, his scars more pronounced against his face. he’s lost what little baby fat he once had and the war had dragged deep lines into his skin. he doesn’t look like a boy anymore. he looks grown up and lily wonders when that happened, when they all grew up. 

“i took care of him,” he says finally. “that night at the tonkses’. i took care of it.” 

“did you…” she trails off but _kill him_ is still hanging in the air, heavy as an elephant between them. remus’ chin trembles for a second before he nods once, jerky. she didn’t think remus was capable of murder like that, but she didn’t think she was capable of a casting a killing curse and she did. 

“i’m glad he’s dead,” she says quietly. remus starts, swinging his head around to stare at her. “i mean it. he killed so many people, was responsible for so many of my friends dying. we _trusted_ him.” she wipes her nose on her sleeve and then tucks her hands under her thighs, staring at her coffee. “what about regulus?” 

“black? i don’t know.” 

“i don’t think he’s alive.” 

remus sighs, shaking the hair out of his eyes and rubbing at a watermark on the tabletop. “i don’t think so either. peter would’ve told and voldemort would never have let that go.” 

it’s another death for her to struggle with, another death directly because of her. regulus is up there with ted and dorcas, marlene and benjy and samuel and gideon and fabian and mary and all of her friends who died fighting. they stack on her shoulders like dominos, grounding her body to the floor until she feels like she can barely move from the weight. 

so many people. so many lives lost. 

she sniffs again and nudges her cup away from the edge, peering up at remus. “do you have any more firewhiskey?” 

 

it takes a few minutes for harry to remember james. lily can tell that every second breaks james’ heart but he doesn’t push it, lets harry warm up to him on his own time. they sit on the big queen bed, lily and james’ knees touching and harry in lily’s lap, looking shyly at his dad. 

it takes a while but harry’s soon snuggled up next to james, asking questions in his sweet toddler way and lily’s heart is so full it could burst.

it takes a while but they soon find their own little flat in the middle of london, keeping the windows cracked open so they can hear the life of the city in the background. 

it takes a while but the wizarding world slowly puts itself back together, starts healing from the trauma of voldemort and starts growing again.

it takes a while but sirius comes back to himself, starts smiling again.

it takes a while but remus loses some of the hardness in his expression and lets himself be open. 

it takes a while but the bruises on james’ body start fading away and he stops crying out in the night, shuddering from nightmares that he refuses to tell lily about. 

it takes a while but the weight of lost lives grows fainter on lily’s shoulders, the stench of war rinses from her clothes. she cuts her hair, throws open the windows, laughs as much as she can as often as she can. she knits herself back together, knits her family back together, and basks in the glow of their little home. 

it takes a while but lily eventually starts to crave running in open fields instead of sinking below water. eventually, she stops dreaming of drowning any longer. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you incredibly for sticking through that. i'm very very thankful for u. if you every want to talk about, but not limited to, james and lily, remus, sirius, trauma, coping mechanisms, one direction, pride and prejudice, coffee, the queen's thief, or whatever else you want to talk about, i'm over at @bigbrotherlouis on tumblr!!! love u!!!!!


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